


Spoonful of Sugar

by widdlewed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BSL, British Sign Language, Changes to the Wizarding World, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It'll make sense, Kinda, Marvolo Gaunt is Diary Tom Riddle, Master of Death Harry Potter, Mentor Marvolo Gaunt (Diary Tom Riddle), Minister for Magic Lucius Malfoy, Muggleborns are more accepted, Mute Harry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, Parental Death, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-08-22 08:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16594244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widdlewed/pseuds/widdlewed
Summary: Death is omnipotent. As such, it should be of no surprise that they're able to retain the memories of various universes, or multiple timelines and lives lived. Because of this, everything is different, and yet very much the same.Death will only allow one mortal to Lord over them. It just so happens that this universe's Harry Potter needs a more...hands on approach.----aka that AU where Death becomes a parental figure for a young mute Harry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Been sitting on this AU for a good two years now, just adding ideas and compiling stuff together. I finally got the courage to attempt to write it out. 
> 
> There's going to be a lot that's different in this AU. How characters interact, how magic is explained - a lot. The beginning few chapters are gonna be a bit vague and scarce in actual information, but that's on purpose. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy?

“Just go through the wall between Platform 9 and 10. You’ll end up at Platform 9 ¾.”

 

He tried not to let his nerves show, eyes bouncing around the bustling station. People didn’t even spare a glance, trying to get to their destination without worry or additional stress. He looked back over his shoulder, met only with an encouraging smile, and he wavered. Hands tightening around his cart loaded up with his supplies, his lips trembled.

 

“Go on, love, it’s fine.” 

 

He still wavered, stuck in place by the idea of separating. Tears burned his eyes and he ducked his head, trying to will away the silly droplets. A hand rested gently on his head, long fingers threading through thick, wild black curls. 

 

“Harry, it’s fine. You’ll see me. Don’t worry. Now go before you miss the train.” A kiss to his head and a push to his shoulder had him stumbling and he gave a watery smile over his shoulder one last time before he trudged towards the brick wall. 

 

Fear hardened his stomach and he squeezed his eyes as the last second. Wind brushed against his face and startling green eyes peeked open. 

 

The train was, to put it simply, breathtaking. No words could amply describe the sleek black paint that glossed along the locomotive, or how vibrant and intense the crimson was that coated the steel. The steam bellowing from the engine was surprisingly scentless, the air itself giving off a calming aroma that one would link with home. 

 

Harry just stared, eyes wide, as he took in the sight before him. Around him, parents and children bustled about, loading up their carts or giving tearful goodbyes. Harry moved out of the way of the entrance, deciding it’d be a bad idea to be run over. He made it just in time to see a family of redheads rush through, frantic and loud in their arrival. Harry watched, silently, as the parents gave a roll-call and a kiss to each child, sending them away with a huge smile and wet eyes. 

 

Harry followed after the children, observing how they abandoned their carts near the back of the train. Giving his owl, Hedwig, a quick stroke along her head, he followed the other students onto the train. Clenching onto his shoulder bag, he looked around for a compartment to sit in.

 

He found a empty compartment, luckily, and sat inside. He pulled out his notepad and a pen, uncapping it. He took a few moments, writing carefully to avoid smearing from the ink. 

 

_ Hello,  _ the paper read,  _ my name is Harry. What’s your name? _

 

Smiling triumphantly, he waited, heart pounding in his chest. He watched as families continued to say goodbye to each other, parents and children alike clinging to each other. His heart sunk, tears returning as he thought of his own Guardian, left alone for the entire year in their house of 4 Privet Drive. Well, they wouldn’t really be alone, not with their employees coming and going throughout all hours of the day. But still, the thought of being away from them for so long - it made Harry want to sob. 

 

The compartment door slid open and Harry jolted out of his thoughts, watery eyes blinking at the three children standing there. 

 

“Oh, hello,” the girl of the three greeted, dark hair in wild tight curls. Her brown eyes crinkled up in friendly warmth, her smile wide to show off her protruding teeth. “Mind if we sit here?” Harry shook his head and gestured for them to sit. The redhead of the group looked like he belonged to the family from before, his blue eyes wide and his freckles prominent against his pale skin. 

 

The other child, with a round face, short stature, and blond hair, smiled shyly at Harry. The three sat, squished on one side of the compartment. Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering why they were all crammed onto one bench. 

 

“Ron, go sit next to...I’m sorry, what’s your name?” The girl looked at Harry, smile apologetic. Harry scrambled, lifting up his notepad. He smiled brightly at the three, who read it. 

 

“...oh, you’re..uh…” The redhead, Ron, rubbed at his neck. “Right. I’m Ron. Ron Weasley. This is Hermione Granger and that’s Neville Longbottom.” The other two smiled politely at Harry, who lowered his pad, suddenly self-conscious. 

 

“You’re a Muggleborn, then?” Hermione asked, eyeing him up and down. He didn’t look like a pureblood, not with his unruly long curls and baggy clothing. 

 

Harry blinked, tilting his head to the side. Taking his pen, he quickly scribbled,  _ Muggleborn? _

 

The three children stared. 

 

“You...don’t know what a Muggleborn is?” Neville was the one who asked, voice meek and eyebrows pinched. “Didn’t you go to the Courses?” Harry shook his head, making a question mark large on his page. 

 

“Courses. You know, what every Muggleborn child had to attend every summer from the time they showed their accidental magic to their last summer before Hogwarts.” Hermione stared at him, expression disbelieving. “Are you a half-blood then? You should know the term though.” 

 

_ Didn’t go to school,  _ Harry scribbled out, handwriting a neat cursive.  _ Home-schooled.  _

 

“Private tutor?” Ron asked with raised eyebrows. “Must be a sheltered bloke, then.” Hermione still looked at him, doubtful. 

 

“Even if he had tutors, he should-”

 

“Hermione, he may have special reasons,” Neville cut in, flashing a apologetic smile to Harry. Harry just watched them, not at all minding them talking as if he weren’t there. The compartment door slid open again and the four looked over as a slender, sharp-looking student leaned against the entryway. 

 

Silver eyes and blond hair combed back into a neat little style, he raised a thin eyebrow at them. 

 

“So this is where you’ve been,” he spoke and stepped in, waving away the two hulking children behind him. “I thought you’d have had your own compartment.” He casted a glance at Harry before gracefully dropping down next to him. 

 

“If you didn’t decide to be  _ fashionably late _ ,” Ron sneered out, “we could have sat together.” The child just smiled, all teeth, before turning to Harry. With a jolt, Harry revealed his notepad and the child’s lips curled. 

 

“What, can’t speak?” The child asked with a sniff. “Or can’t hear?”  Hermione’s mouth snapped open, ready to screech, when Harry merely smiled and pointed to his throat. The child nodded, once, and stuck a hand out. 

 

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” Harry looked at his hand for a second before tentatively reaching out, giving it a quick shake. “So, is it just Harry or are you embarrassed by your blood-status?”

 

“He won’t understand,” Ron spoke up, frown on his face that he directed at Draco. “It’s like he never went to the Courses.” 

 

“Impossible,” Draco said at once, giving Harry a once-over. “All Muggleborns-”

 

Harry let them bicker, scribbling out a question. Presenting it, Hermione smiled as she read it aloud, “Are we friends? Yes, I’m proud to say we are.” 

 

Neville smiled, a small thing, and elbowed Hermione gently. “We’ve known each other for a few years now. Hermione was introduced when she was six. She took Courses with us.” 

 

“I still don’t understand why  _ we  _ had to take the Courses,” Draco bemoaned, slumping back in his seat. “It was designed to integrate Muggleborns into the Wizarding World. Why did us Purebloods have to attend?” 

 

“So there wasn’t any blood discrimination?” Ron supplied helpfully, gesturing to Hermione, whose look dared Draco to say something. 

 

“Fair enough.” He turned to Harry. “So, you have no idea what we’re talking about, is it?” 

 

Harry nodded and his cursive came out sloppy as he wrote,  _ I’m lost. I just found out I was a wizard on my birthday.  _

 

The four children just blinked. 

 

“That’s-”

 

“Circumstances,” Neville reminded and then smiled. “Well, Muggleborns are those who have magic but were born from muggles - non magical people. Half-bloods are those whose parents are a Pureblood and a Muggleborn and Purebloods are, well, those whose are from a long line of Magical blood.” 

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t go to the Courses. The Ministry made sure it was foolproof. My father’s the Minister, you know. He wouldn’t have overlooked a mistake like this.” 

 

“No one cares about your father, Malfoy.” Ron rolled his eyes. “So, Harry, have you heard about the houses?” 

 

Harry shook his head and smiled when Hermione started to blabber about them. He listened, attentively, nodding along as Hermione spewed fact after fact. The other three boys in the compartment looked at her with fond expressions, Draco’s eyes sliding to Harry’s notepad. 

 

While Hermione stopped to snap something at Ron, Harry dug through his bag. He pulled out a juice box and two plastic baggies of cut up fruit. The children raised eyebrows. 

 

_ Hungry,  _ Harry scribbled.  _ My Guardian packed me a snack. _

 

“That’s smart,” Hermione commented, eyeing the fruit in approval. “My parents did the same!” She pulled out her own snack, a bag of fruit and granola, and smiled in comradery with Harry. “They’re dentists so they can’t bring themselves to pack me crisps or chocolate.” 

 

“When the trolley gets here, you want something Weasley?” Draco asked, nose crinkled up. “All that healthy snacks make me want to drown myself in sugar.” Ron nodded eagerly and as if summoned, the door opened. 

 

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” A older woman smiled kindly at them and without batting an eyelash, Draco rattled off a list of sweets. Harry listened, the words going in one ear and out the other. It sounded like gibberish to him. 

 

The rest of the train ride was spent with them discussing the professors at Hogwarts. From the names Harry did catch and remember, there was Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Rubeus Hagrid, Marvolo Gaunt… so many teachers. Harry scribbled their names down as he heard them, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the name Marvolo Gaunt. His fingers brushed against the ink and smeared it. Huh. What a extremely extravagant name. 

 

As the day continued, Harry nestled down to take a nap. They wouldn’t be getting there until well into the evening, from what Hermione had stated, so he though a quick rest would be alright. Closing his eyes, Harry let the sound the the four children wash over him until sleep took him. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Should we wake him?” 

 

“Well of course we wake him! He has to change into his robes.” 

 

“You wake him, Malfoy.”

 

“Why me? You do it, Weasley.”

 

“I think he’s waking up by himself.”

 

Harry’s eyes fluttered opened, blinking away sleep. The four children were hunched close to him, Hermione’s arm outstretched. She retracted it with a grimace and smiled sheeply. 

 

“You’ve got to change into your school robes.” She gestured to their own clothing, cloaked in black robes and sweaters. Harry nodded and pulled his out, pausing. 

 

“Oh.” Hermione flushed. “Sorry.” She left and Harry was quick to change. He pulled his robes on, fixing his hair and straightening out his clothing. Neville knocked on the door and Hermione walked back into the compartment.

 

“Hogwarts is amazing,” she gushed, smiling brightly. “No matter how many times you’ve seen it, it’s still beautiful as if it’s the first time!” Harry nodded and the train slowly came to a stop. Harry gathered his notepad and stood up, deciding to follow his new friends. They were friends, right? They’d introduced themselves and spent the time talking (or writing, in Harry’s case). They’d be the first friends his age he’d ever had. He hoped they were actually friends and he wasn’t getting ahead of himself by thinking so. 

 

They exited the train, Hermione holding a hand out for Harry. His eyes went wide and before Hermione could second-guess her decision, he grasped onto it with a giddy smile. 

 

“That’s Hagrid,” Hermione whispered in her ear as her boys flanked around them. “He’s the groundskeeper at Hogwarts and he’s super nice.” Harry looked at the giant man, his neck craning back to try and see his face. Wow, he was huge! 

 

Hagrid led them onto boats, seating them together. Harry clung to Hermione throughout the boat ride, focusing ahead and not at the black waters. Candles reflected off the surface and Harry looked up. 

 

Hermione was right. Hogwarts was beautiful. He stared at the castle, entranced. Beside him, Hermione smiled and tightened her hand around his. 

 

The rest of the ride was a blur. It felt as if Harry had blinked and he suddenly found himself outside large double doors, crowded around by other children. In front of them stood a elderly witch, her greying hair tied back into a tight bun. She smiled faintly at them, her eyes narrowed as she looked them over. 

 

“Good evening, children.” She studied them all, her eyes passing Harry before going back. They settled on him and something flashed through her gaze before her eyes moved back to other students. “In just a few short moments, you’ll be sorted into your house. Once you are in your house, you will remain there for the next 7 years. Your house will be your family - I expect no inner house rivalry.” 

 

She turned, waving her hands. The double doors of the castle opened and she began walking. The students followed without instructions, Harry’s eyes roaming the halls as they moved. Green eyes lit up, a breathless smile stretching across his lips as ghosts appeared from the walls, wanting to catch sight of the new students. 

 

A few students sent Harry odd looks as he began to wave his hand wildly, energetic and eager to catch the spirits attention. A few of the ghosts looked over, having to do double takes before their silvery-transparent fleshed seemed to pale even further. 

 

A few spirits ducked, slinking back into the wall. Two ghosts, however, nodded back to Harry. One ghost, beautiful and with long dark hair, curtsied to the child before disappearing into a ball of light. 

 

“My,” another ghost spoke, gliding over to Harry’s side, “what a honor it is to meet you.” His neck was cut, dry blood caking along his collarbone and his shirt-collar. Harry beamed brightly, waving once more. Sir Nicholas bowed, holding his head in place. “We’ve been anticipating your arrival, little one.”

 

“You know him?” Hermione frowned. A few other students glanced over in curiosity. 

 

“Oh no! I wish! We’ve merely heard of him.” Sir Nicholas bowed once more and disappeared, leaving the first years glancing at Harry in intrigue. The students were stopped outside large doors leading into the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall studied the students for a moment before opening the door. 

 

Four long tables were positioned in the gigantic room, stretched out to sit hundreds of students. Furthest from the entrance was a long table, where many adults sat. Harry assumed that it was the High Table, as Hermione had explained to him. He squeezed Hermione’s hand, staring unblinkingly at the adults as the students were lead towards a chair. 

 

A old, ratty looking hat sat on the stool, perched on the top of the stairs leading to the High Table. Professor McGonagall stopped the students and walked up the steps, her robes fluttering behind her in elegant waves. Harry peeked out behind Ron’s side, seeing as the child was a almost a good six inches taller than him, and studied the professors closer. 

 

“The one with the hooked nose?” Hermione, catching his gaze, leaned over to whisper in his ear. “That’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions and he’s the Head of Slytherin.” Harry nodded in thanks and looked at the elderly man with the silvery beard. 

 

“That’s Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster.” Harry nodded and his gaze landed on red eyes. 

 

Red eyes that were staring at him in curiosity and confusion. 

 

The man looked younger, younger than any other adult at the table. His dark black hair was neat and styled in a side-sweep, his pale skin seemingly glowing against the candlelight His head cocked to the side as he continued to maintain eye contact with Harry. Harry’s heart clenched, his stomach fluttered, and his head thumped once in a dull ache. 

 

He smelled like dirt and old water sitting in a cup and like sunlight. Harry could smell him from where he stood, trained to sense certain individuals enough to where it was almost a immediate thought to categorize the aroma the man gave off. 

 

“That’s Marvolo Gaunt,” Hermione whispered, drawing Harry’s attention away. “He’s the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. He’s also the youngest Professor to teach at Hogwarts, aside from Professor Snape.” 

 

Harry nodded in thanks and the two turned to watch the sorting begin. 

 

Harry clenched tightly to his notepad, hugging it to his chest. Names were called and Hermione parted, giving a encouraging smile to her friends. After a few awkward moments of silence, in which her facial expressions twisted and dropped, she was sorted into Gryffindor. The table clapped and cheered and she beamed, hopping off the stool. 

 

After Hermione, Neville was called up. He went to Hufflepuff, slumping off the stool with red ears as the hall cheered and capped. Draco went next, the hat barely grazing him before he was sorted into Slytherin. The hall clapped and cheered, Slytherin more energetically than the rest, and the child left with a smug smirk. 

 

And then his name was called.

 

Harry’s smile fell as a hush came over the Hall. No one spoke, the group of remaining first years looking between themselves in alarm. Beside him, Ron gasped and snapped his head to Harry. 

 

“Mate...are you…?” 

 

Harry was slow as he stepped out of the students, head ducked and shoulders up. His hands were almost white around his notepad as he took one step at a time. The Professors leaned closer and those red eyes were alight in something Harry couldn’t place. 

 

Hundreds of pairs of eyes bore into him as he slid onto the stool. The hat was placed on the top of his head and everything went quiet. 

 

_ “Well, this is interesting.”  _ Harry jolted, nearly toppling over. McGonagall reached out to steady him and a few students chuckled at his display.  _ “So sorry lad. You’ve never had a talking hat in your head before?”  _

 

_ No sir,  _ Harry thought, casting his eyes down to his notepad.  _ I’m sorry.  _

 

_ “Why are you apologizing? A weird one, you are.”  _ The hat gave a hum and Harry sat very still, waiting.  _ “Where to put you. Where to put you, indeed.”  _

 

_ “You are ambitious, but not too ambitious. You aren’t cunning at all, nor are you shrewd. You’ve got a lot of self preservation, I see, but I doubt Slytherin would be the best for you. You don’t exactly have a drive for knowledge - you ignorance is testimony to that.”  _

 

Harry’s hand twitched. 

 

_ “Not exactly brave or courageous, are you? You’ve got a lot of fear in you, lad. _ ” Harry made sure to keep his eyes straight head as the hat spoke, not wanting to meet any stares. 

 

_ I can’t really argue with you on that,  _ he mused softly.  _ What are you thinking, Hufflepuff? _

 

_ “You are loyal,”  _ the hat conceded. _ “Hardworking.”  _ Harry smiled faintly.  _ “Dedicated and you believe in fair play. Yes, I believe Hufflepuff is exactly the right house for you. But then…” _

 

_ But what?  _ Harry asked, frowning. 

 

“ _ While you wouldn’t strive in Slytherin, I feel like placing you there would be the best.” _

 

_ What, why?  _

 

_ “Your connections, Mr. Potter. Your soul is connected to so many things that hold more sway than your own tiny spirit. For your connections to strive, for what you hold dear for you to continue to blossom, I think you’ll do great in  _ SLYTHERIN!”

 

Harry just sat there, green eyes wide. No one clapped. No one cheered. They just stared. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oho~ Another chapter. Still short, still kinda vague. More questions than answers. 
> 
> Chapter isn't beta'd do please don't be afraid to point out any mistakes I make.

  _[Sometimes he saw them, out the corner of his eyes. Blink and he’d miss them, their forms slipping back into the crowds or around the corner of the house. He’d first noticed them when he was four, out tending to the garden. His hands were caked in dirt and blood, his nail beds split open from the harsh treatment._

_ He’s been focusing on the flowers, trying to make them look pretty for Petunia, when he noticed a man  _ perched  _ on the fence, observing him. It’d taken his young mind a moment to realize that someone probably shouldn’t be doing that and had looked over.  _

_ The man was gone.] _

 

* * *

 

 

Professor McGonagall was the first to snap out of the shocked trance, gently taking the hat off Harry’s head. Harry stayed seated, wide eyes trained on Slytherin’s banner. He slowly shook his head, gripping onto his notebook tightly. 

 

“Mr. Potter, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to go to house, please.” Harry wavered, looking up at her through dark eyelashes. She lost her words for a moment, seeing pure, unfiltered terror reside in those eyes that reminded her so much of a past excellent student. 

 

He finally nodded, slipping off the stool. Draco shoved at one of his seat mates, making them scoot down. No one was clapping still, leaving it an awkward silence only broken by Harry’s dragged shuffles. He slid down next to Draco, smiling weakly to the blonde. Draco nodded and then turned his attention back to the sorting. 

 

Harry flipped open his notepad, getting it ready to make new friends in his house. Hopefully. 

 

He looked down, seeing his standard black robe had switched, adding in the green and silver of Slytherin. He stared at the snake coiled around the embroider on his chest and released a shuddery breath. 

 

Harry heard Ron’s name get called and listened as he was sorted into Gryffindor. He was fast as he sat down next to Hermione, smiling brightly. The two looked up and met Harry’s eyes, sending sympathetic expressions his was. 

 

Though, if Harry was being honest, he was just grateful he was with someone he somewhat knew. The House wasn’t welcomed, but at least Draco didn’t ignore him. 

 

The sorting winded down to a stop and Dumbledore stood up. Harry was only half-listening as the man gave a speech, his eyes moving back around the hall. Ghosts were peeking through again, hesitant as their eyes roamed over to the Slytherin table. He could see a few confused expressions from the students, probably wondering why they were acting so weird. 

 

“PEEVES!” 

 

Dumbledore’s speech faltered as Sir Nicholas burst into the Hall, looking completely put out. “Peeves, we must be on our best behavior! The Little One is here!”

 

“ _ You  _ must be on your best behavior!” Peeves, startlingly corporal, spoke as he floated over the tables, looking like he was lounging in a lake instead of the Great Hall. “Can’t touch me - I’m not a human soul!”

 

Sir Nicholas looked ready to strangle the spirit, if it were possible. Dumbledore just sighed, continuing on as if they weren’t making a huge scene. The students tried to ignore the spirits, careful to avoid any thrown projectiles Peeves got his hands on. 

 

Dumbledore finished his speech, not that a lot of the students were even listening at this point, much more interested in the bickering between Sir Nicholas and Peeves, and sat down. Food appeared across the tables and it seemed Harry was the only one who was startled by the sudden summons. 

 

A rock sailed and smacked Harry in the back of the head. Sir Nicholas froze, all color of grey seeming to drain from him. Even Peeves stopped. 

 

The poltergeist floated down, hesitant as he raised a hand. “...sorry.” A fourth year down the table spat out their pumpkin juice. Peeves lightly ghosted his fingers over the spot the rock hit. “Don’t tattle?”

 

“YOU FOOL!” Sir Nicholas screeched. Slytherin winced, rubbing their ears at the sudden yell. The ghost tried to grab Peeves, only to phase through his head. “Apologize! Apologize now!” 

 

“I did!” Peeves snapped like a child. His eyes were wary as he turned to Harry, who was watching the two in utter joy. “Itty bitty Potty heard me! Didn’t ya?” Harry nodded, holding up his hand in a ‘thumbs up’ gesture. The two spirits nodded, Peeves looking smug, while Sir Nicholas floated closer.

 

“Don’t be afraid to tell on him,” the ghost spoke seriously. “He’s a menace to society. I don’t why we keep him.” Harry gave another thumbs up, this one more to appease Sir Nicholas than anything. Nodding, the two left to other parts of the Hall. 

 

“You’re so weird, Potter,” Draco mumbled as he nudged the child to get a plate of food. Harry shrugged, placing his notebook down on his lap to scoop up a ladle of mashed potatoes. A handful of students down, a older Slytherin narrowed her eyes at him. Standing up, she walked down the row of students until she was in front of him. 

 

She waved her hand, catching Harry’s attention. He looked up, eyebrows raising as she forced her way into the seat across from him. 

 

_ Do you sign?  _ Her hands were slow and precise, probably cautious over if he did or not. Harry’s expression lightened, a smile stretching across his lips as he dropped his fork and knife. Out of all the Houses, he was in one where someone else signed! 

 

_ I do!  _ His hands were a flurry of movement, fast and sloppy.  _ Sorry, sorry, excited! I’ve only ever signed with my Guardian!  _

 

Draco lowered his fork from his mouth, a few other students watching the two in utter fascination. At the High Table, Snape and Dumbledore were staring intensely. 

 

_ Are you Deaf or Hearing?  _ The girl asked, her dark brown hair spilling over one shoulder as she signed. 

 

_ Hearing,  _ Harry responded, smile softer,  _ but I’m mute. _ The girl nodded in understanding. 

 

_ My little brother is deaf,  _ she explained and smiled faintly.  _ Professor Snape knows a bit of sign in case you ever need to talk to him. I’m Amelia Reddington.  _

 

“What are you two doing?” Draco finally asked. Amelia looked at him, smile tight. 

 

“We’re talking, Malfoy. It’s rude to interrupt a conversation,” Amelia spoke pointedly, teeth flashing as she leaned closer against the table. 

 

“Talking? With your hands?” Draco’s eyebrows went up higher. Harry looked between the two of them, confused. 

 

_ Purebloods aren’t that knowledgeable on BSL,  _ Amelia explained and nodded with a huff.  _ I’ve been working with Headmaster Dumbledore to try and put a curriculum into the Courses to teach upcoming students. Hasn’t really worked yet. _

 

“It’s called Sign Language, Malfoy. British Sign Language. People who are deaf, hard of hearing, or mute use it to communicate,” Amelia explained patiently. “Here, this means ‘hello’.” She showed the sign to Draco, who raised a thin eyebrow. 

 

“Why would I ever want to learn that?” He snapped and then winced, casting a look to Harry. Harry, focusing on drowning his potatoes in gravy, merely looked up when he felt a pair of eyes on him. “...fine. What was it?” 

 

Amelia repeated the sign and Draco awkwardly mirrored it. Harry’s eyes seemed to sparkle. Around them, Slytherin students pretended not to be listening in, some of the fellow first years repeating the sign when they thought no one was watching. 

 

“So you just talk with your hands? And you can understand it like words?” Another first year asked, leaning around Draco. “That’s rather ingenious. It’s like a secret code.” Amelia snorted and Harry just took a bite of his food. 

 

_ Purebloods and their amusement over the simplest thing,  _ Amelia signed and Harry cracked a smile, unsure what was so funny about that. 

 

_ I’m...not familiar with these words. Purebloods and the like. I didn’t go to the Courses _ . Harry let his hands linger in the air as Amelia slowly nodded. 

 

“Have the Professors been informed of your disability?” Amelia asked, turning to the High Table. Harry shook his head. 

 

_ My Guardian was the one in charge of everything. I don’t know if they informed them,  _ Harry spoke, looking over to the table. Marvolo and Snape were watching the exchange without shame, Dumbledore and Minerva whispering to each other while glancing at Harry. 

 

Amelia blinked. “Well, if they haven’t, they know now. So, you’ve obviously never been introduced to magic before by your reaction to the food. How did you like Diagon Alley?” 

 

_ Diagon Alley?  _ Harry questioned, eyebrows furrowed.  _ What’s that? _

 

Amelia stopped. “Where you got your supplies.” She laid her hands flat on the table. “You...went to Diagon Alley, didn’t you?” 

 

Again, Harry shook his head.

 

_ My Guardian did the shopping for me,  _ he explained.  _ Bought all my stuff.  _

 

“He couldn’t have!” Amelia exclaimed, many of the other older students sending sneers at her for her loud behavior. “You’ve got a wand, don’t you? Your Guardians couldn’t possibly have gotten that for you!” 

 

Harry withdrew his wand from his robes, presenting it to her.  _ They got my wand too.  _

 

“That’s not possible,” Amelia stressed. “Wands pick the master. No one can get a wand for you - you have to get it yourself.” Harry just shrugged, putting the wand back into his robes. 

 

“What, he’s saying he didn’t get his own wand?” Another older student asked, leaning in with beady eyes. “How’s that possible?”

 

“He’s saying his guardian got it for him. He’s never been to Diagon Alley.” Amelia scowled at Harry. “Maybe it’s a used wand from Knockturn.” 

 

Again, Harry shrugged. 

 

“You’re a weird one Potter,” Draco said again. Harry had a feeling that he’d be hearing that phrase a lot within the next few years. 

 

* * *

 

 

When the Feast ended, Harry was pulled aside by McGonagall. 

 

“Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to see you. Please follow me,” she stated, casting a pointed stare at Draco and Amelia. “Don’t worry, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Reddington, he’ll get back to the dungeon safely.” Draco wavered before nodding, leaving with Amelia. 

 

McGonagall’s lips twitched into a smile before she led Harry out of the Great Hall. They walked down a hallway away from the parting students, turning corners. They stopped at a gargoyle statue and she held her hands out. 

 

“Sherbet Lemon.” 

 

A staircase jerked out of the ground, winding its way up towards the ceiling. Harry took a step, McGonagall behind him as they were lifted up into the air. Harry braced his hand on the wall, dizzy from the circling motion. The staircase stopped and McGonagall gently nudged Harry out of the stairwell. He stepped into a colorful room, trinkets and moving portraits stealing his attention instantly. 

 

A coo sounded, drawing Harry’s eyes over to a bright red and gold colored bird. In a instant he was over to the bird’s perch, eyes almost glowing as he took in the bird.

 

The bird smelled of embers, of burning wood in a fireplace, and of warm cookies baking in the oven. Comfortable, soothing, and burning of life and innocence. Harry lifted a hand, the bird making another soft coo as it leaned into Harry’s hand. 

 

His fingers tingled, his blood warming under his skin as the bird’s black eyes locked onto green. 

 

_ So beautiful,  _ Harry thought, tears forming,  _ yet so sad.  _ A single tear slipped down his cheek and the bird made a twitter, tone suggesting comfort. A cough sounded and Harry whirled, cheeks burning as Dumbledore, Snape, and Marvolo stood there. 

 

_ Sorry,  _ Harry said without thought and Snape raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Come sit, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall spoke, gesturing Harry over. He left the bird, sitting down in the offered chair. “Mr. Potter it had come to our attention that you…”

 

“Can’t speak,” Snape finished, voice a hiss as he studied Harry. “Now, I don’t know if this is some new ploy for attention-”

 

Harry’s face fell and his mind blanked. Did this man-

 

Did he just-

 

One of the glass objects near the corner of Dumbledore’s desk exploded. McGonagall jolted while Marvolo and Snape lurched away. Harry shot to his feet, eyes narrowed.

 

_ Attention?  _ He spoke, hands jerky and sharp, his expression twisted into one of disgust.  _ You really think I’m doing this for attention? You are extremely rude! Why would you even think that? Why would you even say that to someone’s face?  _

 

“Calm down, Mr. Potter. Professor Snape was insensitive, I apologize. I’m afraid I have no clue what you’re saying however,” Dumbledore spoke, tone calm and light-hearted as he raised his hands to placate the child. 

 

“I think we don’t need to know what he’s saying to know what he means,” Marvolo spoke calmly. His tone was calm, words almost purred out as he smirked at Harry. “Lovely show of magic, though.” Harry sat back down, hands clenching tightly into fists. 

 

“The only reason we ask,” Dumbledore spoke slowly, “is because we’ve met when you were a small infant, Mr. Potter.” 

 

Harry stilled, shoulders hunching up. 

 

“You had a rather loud cry, Harry.” 

 

First name, trying to be familiar. Harry frowned. His Guardian had warned that people tried to do that to create a bond or to have you let your guard down. He wondered which one this old man was trying to do. 

 

(Out of the corner of his eye, a figure shifted their footing. Harry’s shoulders relaxed slightly.)

 

“Maybe,” Marvolo spoke carefully, eyes crinkling up as if amused, “his muteness is a unforeseen side effect of the Killing Curse? After all, he’s the only ever documented case of someone surviving it.” 

 

Harry bowed his head, frowning. Killing Curse? That thing that had given him his scar? His Guardian had mentioned it in passing - saying it was in the past and wasn’t of importance for Harry to waste energy thinking over. He wondered if he’d be able to read about it. 

 

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore considered. “For now, do you mind if we cast a spell on you, Harry?” 

 

Again with the first name. Harry didn’t know if he quite liked that. 

 

_ W-h-a-t-s-p-e-l-l,  _ Harry finger spelled, looking to Snape as he did so. He didn’t know how many phrases the professor knew, but he hoped he knew the letters at least. After a beat of silence, Snape seemed to connect the letters. 

 

“He’s asking what spell,” he sneered out, eyes narrowed. 

 

“It’s a simple spell. It’ll translate your sign language into subtitles for others to read. That way you won’t be at a disadvantage with your peers,” Dumbledore spoke and gestured to Marvolo. “Professor Gaunt will be the one to put it on you.” 

 

(That figure moved, slicking just out of full sight to Harry. His shoulders relaxed further and he briefly saw a hand flash  _ Safe _ .)

 

Harry hesitated and then slowly nodded. Marvolo walked around the desk, moving to stand in front of Harry. He raised his wand, lifting Harry’s chin up with his free one. 

 

Red locked with green and the professor whispered the spell under his breath. His wand lit in a faint spark, the remnants raining down on air like flakes of snow. 

 

“Try to sign something,” Marvolo instructed, letting go of Harry’s face. 

 

_ “Something.”  _ Harry’s eyes went wide as he saw the words appear in the air above his chest. It was backwards for him, reading out straight for anyone looking at him. Oh wow, that was… That was  _ brilliant _ . 

 

“What a cheeky boy,” Marvolo mused with a smirk. He tucked his wand away. “Got anything else to say?” 

 

_ “I’m not seeking attention,”  _ Harry spoke, eyes flashing to Snape in a brief glare.  _ “I can’t speak.”  _ Dumbledore nodded, looking tired. 

 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to take a quick trip to the infirmary. I’d like Poppy to do a quick diagnosis spell on you.” 

 

_ “Why?”  _ Harry asked, a smile twitching the corners of his lips. It was weird, to see the words floating in front of him. Gave him a bit of a headache, if he had to honest. Reading backwards wasn’t that easy. 

 

“Just to humor me, dear boy.” Harry mentally hummed. He was trying to form a bond, he decided. Why, though? Was it normal? Or was Harry being singled out for his...unfortunate circumstances? 

 

“Professor Snape, why don’t you take Harry here and then show him to his dormitory,” Dumbledore spoke with a grandfatherly smile. Snape’s lips thinned before he nodded. 

 

“Come along Potter,” the man spat and moved, his capes bellowing behind him in dramatic sweeps. Harry watched him for a moment, inwardly bemused by the whole theatrics. Moving, he followed after the man. 

 

* * *

 

 

“MUTE!” Minerva shrieked the moment the two were gone. “HE’S MUTE, ALBUS!”

 

“Minerva-” Dumbledore winced as she whirled furious eyes on him. 

 

“You left him with those Muggles! They probably did something! He used to babble, Albus! He’d make the cutest little coos and-”

 

“Again,” Marvolo purred out, studying his nails, “it could be a side effect of the Curse.” Sharp eyes lifted. “Though, if he’d gone to the Courses like is  _ mandatory _ , we’ve have known beforehand.” 

 

Dumbledore sighed, slumping back in his seat. “I made a mistake, I admit. I didn’t want the fame to get to his head so early in his life. He’d have been seen as a Hero. That isn’t good for a child’s developing esteem.” 

 

“He’s probably never even met another Wizard before!” Minerva seethed quietly, lips white around the edges. “He shouldn’t have been given to that Muggle family. They were horrible when I saw them, they’re probably horrible now!” 

 

“Minerva,” Dumbledore sighed. “Please calm down.” 

 

“Jame and Lily Potter are probably rolling around in their graves,” she snapped out. “Their own child, somehow mute! He’s tiny, Albus! Did you look at him? Like a scared fawn!”

 

“That’s one way to describe him,” Marvolo muttered dryly to himself. He pushed his hair back. “If that was all you needed me for, Headmaster. I’ve got to go make finally arrangements for my classes.” Dumbledore waved him off and he left, smirking as he heard Minerva’s voice raise again. 

 

He walked out of the stairwell, putting his hands in his pockets. Humming softly, he walked. 

 

**_“What’s_ ** _ got you excited?”  _ A soft hiss spoke, a snake appearing from behind a suit of armor. Marvolo stopped, letting the snake slid up his pant leg. 

 

**_“Excited?_ ** _ Me? Are you sure you aren’t just seeing poorly?”  _ Marvolo answered back with a dry smile. The snake stared at him, expression as blank as can be. 

 

**_“That_ ** _ little human smells familiar. Like you,”  _ the snake hissed, forked tongue flickering out. Marvolo raised an eyebrow. 

 

**_“You_ ** _ think? I wouldn’t be surprised. That scar on his forehead serves as a important connection. Nagini.”  _ Marvolo paused, looking the snake in the eye.  _ “Be smart and keep out of sight if you decide to do something. Can’t have you scaring the first years.”  _

 

The snake bobbed her head up and down before moving back down, slinking away. Watching her go, Marvolo huffed and continued on his way. 

 

* * *

 

 

“He’s physically fine,” Poppy stated as she looked over her results. “No signs of head trauma or throat injuries. It may be due to the Curse and just not have left any scarring. Magical residue can do strange things sometimes.” She frowned at her papers. “Huh.” 

 

“What?” Snape asked, eyes moving from her to Harry, who was sitting on a cot, legs swinging back and forth as he waited for the two to finish talking. He didn’t look bored or tired or even curious as to what they were speaking about. He merely sat, waiting. 

 

“Oh, I don’t know. I just thought…” Poppy shook her head. “It’s nothing. Well, he’s fine. He’s got that spell to help him translate, right? For now, that’s all we can do. If your throat starts to hurt, come to me immediately, alright Mr. Potter?” Harry, at being addressed, perked up and nodded. 

 

Snape exhaled through his nose and moved to leave, barely waiting to see if Harry would follow him. Harry scampered after him after sending a  _ “Thank you”  _ to the Witch. She smiled and signed,  _ Your welcome _ much to his delight. 

 

“Slytherin dormitories are located in the dungeons of Hogwarts,” Snape began as he heard Harry’s fast footsteps behind him. “You have a password to enter so I suggest you stay with a housemate who can speak it for you.” He casted a sneer at that. 

 

_ “Thank you sir,”  _ Harry spoke, the letters bobbing up and down from the motions of him walking. He smiled at it once more. He didn’t know if he’d be able to get used to it. Snape nodded tersely and led Harry to the Dungeon Corridor, the dim lighting making the child squint. 

 

“This is the Potions classroom,” Snape spoke after a beat. “Further down is my own personal quarters. You are never to go to them unless it is an absolute emergency, alright Potter? Life or Death situations.” Harry nodded dutifully and Snape walked further down. 

 

They stopped at a wall, looking as damp and eroded as the rest of the hall. “Salazar Slytherin.” The wall trembled before opening, revealing a room behind it. Harry’s mouth fell open in shock and awe. 

 

“Welcome to Slytherin.” He almost sounded pained to say it. “Potter.” He stepped through the opening and Harry was quick to jump in after him. Students lingered along the common room, spread out along leather seats or carved chairs. The lighting was dim and dark, burning green lanterns hanging from the ceilings on chains. 

 

Draco and Amelia jumped up from a small table, Amelia’s smile tight in front of Snape.

 

“Professor Snape,” she greeted. “Potter. Malfoy’s rooming with you so he’ll be able to show you to your bed.” Harry nodded. 

 

_ “Thank you,”  _ he spoke and Draco’s eyes widened at the words that appeared. Amelia’s smile faltered slightly. 

 

“You’ve got words now to go with your hands,” the Malfoy heir spoked, head tilting to the side. “I guess I won’t have to learn such a tedious task now.” Amelia shot him a dirty look. 

 

“The Headmaster didn’t want any...weaknesses...to slow down Potter’s learning,” Snape spoke carefully. He nodded. “Schedules will be passed out tomorrow at breakfast.” He left, leaving Amelia and Draco to turn to Harry. 

 

“He’s a bit rude,” Amelia admitted, “but don’t let what he says bother you. Now, I think it’s time for bed.” Draco mumbled something under his breath and guided Harry to their dorm. 

 

Harry plopped down on his bed, snuggling into the clean pillow. The covers and pillowcase were cold, stiff from the chilly air. He sat up, still hugging his pillow. His notepad was on the side table next to his bed and he blinked, realizing he hadn’t seen it since dinner. Draco changed into his nightwear and pulled his curtains closed without a single ‘good night’. Harry followed suit and closed his curtains, hiding him away from the room’s occupants. 

 

He plopped back down onto his side and buried his face into his pillow. His mattress dipped by his back and a hand ran through his hair. 

 

“Well, what an eventful day.” The hand continued to stroke through his locks, long and cold to the touch. “I’ve got a few ghosts to go greet and then I’ll be back. Sleep well, love.” The mattress shifted again and the hand was gone. 

 

Harry fell asleep quickly after that. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ [“Wha’ya ‘oin?’  _

 

_ The man, thin and gangly with almost white skin, blinked in alarm. He craned his neck down, staring at the tiny child before him. Black hair spilled over his shoulder like liquid trails, tangled and unkept. _

 

_ “What did you just say?” The man’s voice was beyond bewildered, his beady black eyes wide.  _

 

_ “Wha’ya ‘oin?” The child repeated, green eyes wide and curious. Scrapes and bruises decorated his skin, dirt caked along his forehead and cheek. His jumper was hanging off one shoulder, pants doing no better to stay on him.  _

 

_ “...” The man blinked. “What are you doing.” He pointed at his lips. “What. Are. You. Doing.” The child just stared.  _

 

_ “Repeat that.” The child’s eyebrows furrowed, lips puffing out into a confused pout.  _

 

_ “What...are...you...doing?” His nose crinkled before a wide smile broke through, his teeth gapped and lips bitten bloody. “What are you doing!”  _

 

_ “Good boy,” the man spoke and reached over, patting him on the head as if he were a dog. The child was stiff under his hand, eyes staring blankly at the ground. His hands were clenched into tight fists, shoulders tense. Beady black eyes flashed. “Sure a smart little master.”  _

 

_ The child looked up.  _

 

_ “And it’s not ‘what are you doing’,” the man spoke and smiled, moving to crouch down in front of the tiny child, “but ‘Who are you’. How old are you?”  _

 

_ The child shrugged, raising a hand. He held up three fingers first before he frowned and switched it to four. That changed to a three again before he lowered his hand, scowling at the ground.  _

 

_ “Wha’ver Duddie’s,” the child spoke, lips barely moving in a mumble. The man nodded, humming.  _

 

_ “Dudley Dursley,” he mused aloud. “He’s four. So you’re about four too, then.” He tilted his head to the side. “So young.”  The child nodded slowly.  _

 

_ “S’name?” The child spoke, pointing to the man. The man took his hand, curling long, boney fingers around the child’s swollen, crooked fingers.  _

 

_ “You may call me whatever you wish,” he spoke, smile fanged. “And you, my tiny master, are Harry Potter.” The child stared blankly, eyebrows pinched. “Harry Potter.”  _

 

_ “‘Arry…’otter?” The child echoed and the man smiled softly.  _

 

_ “Close. We’ll work on your words.”  _

 

_ Behind them, Petunia was screeching, “GET OVER HERE BOY!” Harry looked back at the woman, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and then turned back to face the man.  _

 

_ He was gone, leaving Harry alone in the backyard.] _

 

* * *

 

 

“Potions with Gryffindor,” Draco groaned. “We have it with Hermione and Weasley at least.” 

 

Harry nodded, taking another spoonful of his cereal. Ghosts gave the Slytherin table a wide berth, Sir Nicholas shooting wary glances. Peeves hadn’t made an appearance since last night and Harry inwardly wondered if he’d been given a talking to. 

 

“We’ve got Flying with them on Thursday and then double Potions the next morning,” Draco continued. “ _ And  _ on Mondays and Wednesdays. Is Severus trying to kill us or have us kill the Gryffindors?” 

 

_ “You call him by his first name?”  _ Harry asked, looking over their times table. Draco nodded, nose turning upwards as he tilted his chin. 

 

“Severus is my Godfather. He’s privately tutored me in Potions back before I went to the Courses.” 

 

_ “What exactly are these Courses?”  _ Harry questioned, taking another bite of his cereal. Draco’s chest puffed out proudly. 

 

“The Muggleborn Introduction Act,” Draco began haughtily and a few students looked over, “was created to successfully integrate Muggleborn children or those whose guardianship are non-magical into the Wizarding World. The moment they show their first sign of accidental magic, they are enrolled into Summer Courses that introduce and slowly immerse the children into the rules, ways, and customs of the Wizarding World. The Courses go on until they receive their Hogwarts letter.” 

 

“Which still begs the question-” Draco pointedly stared at Harry- “as to why you never went.” Harry shrugged. 

 

“We’ve got History of Magic first,” a dark skinned boy spoke, cutting into the conversation. “Zabini. Blaise Zabini.” He held a hand out to Harry. “Ignore Draco. If his father doesn’t somehow get praised every ten minutes, he throws a hissy-fit.”

 

“Blaise!” Draco snapped, cheeks warm. “Shut your mouth!” Harry shook hands with Blaise, deciding he liked him. So far most Slytherin were shying away from him, either because of his childhood story or because of his...quietness. 

 

“So, I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Blaise spoke, words and face only partially friendly. “Can I see your scar?” 

 

Many eyes snapped over to Harry, trying and failing not to look at all intrigued. Harry nodded and lifted his bangs up, showing off the dull scar. Draco sucked in a breath while Blaise smiled faintly. 

 

“Wicked. I think it’s ironic you’re in this House, Potter. Hope you fare well.” He went back to his food, seemingly done talking. Harry finished his cereal and watched the bowl disappear. He reached out, getting a small plate of sliced fruit. 

 

“Did you know,” a pug-faced girl spoke as she squished herself against Draco,who grimaced, “that the Professor for History of Magic is a ghost?” 

 

Harry’s head snapped up, delighted. Draco huffed, rolling his eyes in an utterly undignified way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. I spent like 2 frickin' hours trying to make up a schedule for them and finally found a helpful image through google images so I am so sorry if somehow it doesn't follow the 'rules' of schedules. I tried. then gave up. LOL
> 
> If curious - 
> 
> Monday - Potions (gryf), Herbology (raven), lunch, charms, transfiguration  
> Tuesday - History of magic, transfiguration, lunch, charms, DADA  
> Wednesday - potions (gryf), HoM, lunch, double transfiguration, astronomy  
> Thursday - DADA, HoM, lunch, herbology (raven), charm, 3:30 Flying with gryf, astronomy (midnight)  
> Friday - Double Potions, Lunch, DADA, charms 
> 
> I have a few headcanons for Harry during his childhood with the Dursleys. One was he didn't know his name until he was told it was 'Harry Potter'. Thought it was Boy for the longest time. another was that he kinda taught himself to speak, listening to how Petunia taught Dudley? So in his childhood, until a certain point, he was a bit illiterate. It'll make sense the further I go into his past. Right now just kinda giving some teases. 
> 
> _**If there are any inaccuracies you may find on my portrayal or writing of BSL or sign language or those who use it, PLEASE TELL ME. It is not my intention to write them inaccurately or offensively. I am more than happy to fix any mistakes I make. Thank you!** _
> 
> Will next chapter be longer? Who knows. I don't. Thank you so much for enjoying my fic though and for reading the chapter~! Until next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof what is this

It was only their first day of classes and already the first year Slytherins could say that Harry Potter was just plain weird. During their first class with Professor Binns, who taught History of Magic, the ghost had paused in his droning and had just stared blankly at Harry for a good solid 10 minutes.

 

Didn’t utter a word, didn’t even float about in a daze. Just stared. Harry, for his own part, just stared back, a confused smile on his face that faltered the longer the staring contest continued. 

 

It was only after Millicent Bulstrode had spoke than he’d gone back to his boring recite, completely ignoring the child. 

 

After class had ended Draco had snagged Harry by the robe sleeve, tugging him towards their transfiguration classroom. 

 

“What was that with Professor Binns?” Draco asked with a raised eyebrow as Blaise and Pansy followed behind them. Harry blinked, shrugging his shoulders. 

 

_ “Elderly people love me, _ ” Harry explained with a sheepish smile. The three Slytherins stared at him, expressions ranging. 

 

“...elderly people.” Pansy’s face scrunched up further. “Only you could describe a spirit as an  _ elderly person _ .” Harry shrugged again. 

 

“Transfiguration though,” Blaise spoke with a wistful sigh. “I can’t wait. I heard the third years got to-”

 

_ “I get to use my wand!”  _ Harry spoke, turning his attention to Draco. Draco smirked. 

 

“You mean the wand your Guardian got you?” Harry bobbed his head up and down, fishing it from his robe. 

 

_ “It isn’t as smooth as the other one but I really like it a lot. When I first touched it, it was warm and soothing. Like when my guardian hugs me!”  _ Harry beamed and Draco’s eyes skimmed the words, eyebrows furrowing. 

 

“Wait, what other one?” They’d arrived at their classroom, slipping in. Sitting on the desk in the front of the room was a cat, it’s tail swishing back and forth languidly. “You have another wand?”

 

_ [A wooden wand, knots burned into the wood. White ink scribbled out indistinguishable words onto the surface, carved into the wood near the end of the wand. Pale hands were delicate in presenting it to Harry, fingers ghosting down the length. _

 

_ “This is yours.” Their voice was soft, proud and a little warped. “This will always be yours.”] _

 

Harry shook his head and turned his attention to the cat, who was surveying the class with narrowed eyes. His eyes sparkled. He gestured to the cat, smile wide. 

 

_ “If I didn’t have Hedwig, I would have had a cat for my pet,”  _ he explained to Draco, who huffed. Obviously Harry wasn’t going to answer any of his questions.  _ “But my Guardian doesn’t like cats. They say they carry the devil in them.”  _

 

“...the devil?” Blaise’s eyes squinted and he judged Harry. “...what?” 

 

Before Harry could respond, the cat changed into McGonagall and class began. 

 

During transfiguration, Harry had been the first one to turn his match into a needle. McGonagall had tried to hide a proud smirk, tone stern as she commended the child for his success. Harry had signed ‘thank you’, his classmates marveling at the words that appeared in the air. 

 

When Draco had asked how he’d even been able to cast the spell, Harry had just shrugged and explained,  _ “I mouthed the words. I guess it works as long as your lips move?”  _ He’d also put a lot of intent behind the spell, determined to make his match into a needle. He was already feeling uncomfortably behind his peers- he didn’t want his disability to further create a distance between them.  

 

The Boy-Who-Lived was an anomaly to the Slytherin household, who’d been raised on tales of his birth and the defeat of You-Know-Who. The lone heir to the Potter family, a mute, and apparently behind his peers in terms of knowledge of the magical world. The older purebloods looked on silently, observing the child as he interacted with the Malfoy heir. 

 

Draco was smart, building connections. Even an orphan, the Potter heir could and would hold influence as he grew older. Draco understood this and was latching on quick to make himself impressionable. 

 

Lunch was a quiet affair, the students raised on manners to eat first, socialize second. Draco sat next to Harry, watching the smaller child break his food into tiny pieces, popping them into his mouth one at a time. 

 

Like a rabbit, or a small mouse. The child ate like a literal rodent. 

 

“Eat some ham,” Draco offered, sparing a glance at Harry’s plate of fruits and vegetables. “My mother always said that you need protein in your diet.”

 

“Are you his mother?” Blaise asked with a amused smirk, munching lazily on a celery stick. “Let the kid eat what he wants.” 

 

“He’s not going to get any heavier with that,” Pansy huffed from Harry’s other side, spearing a slice of ham. She plopped it down onto his plate with a glare. “You look ready to be blown away by the wind.” 

 

_ “No I’m not,”  _ Harry signed with a frown, looking at the pork hesitantly.  _ “I’m not a big meat eater.” _

 

“Less talking, more eating,” a third year reminded them, eyeing them is disdain. Draco sneered back and the teen looked away. 

 

“After lunch we have charms, don’t we?” Pansy asked, snorting boorishly at the teen who glared at them again. “I’m excited.” She sounded completely bored. 

 

“I bet you are,” Draco spoke with a eye roll. “I’m personally more interested in Defense. Professor Gaunt is said to be an exceptional teacher.” 

 

“You just say that ‘cause he’s acquaintances with your father and Professor Snape,” Blaise spoke with a laugh, pointing a fork at him. “Got a bit of a crush on him?”

 

Pansy giggled loudly, the sound high-pitched and unbecoming of a pureblood lady. Many of the students sneered at them. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Draco drawled, expression deadpan. “Completely raving mad. Swooning as if he were Lockhart.” 

 

_ “Who?”  _ Harry asked, feeling lost in the conversation. He didn’t understand, really, the words between the two. Draco wanted to crush Professor Gaunt? Did he not like him? Harry would have to ask his Guardian to explain it to him. 

 

“Lockhart. He’s this sad excuse of a wizard. Likes to think he’s-”

 

“Careful, Draco darling,” Pansy simpered, eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “I fancy Lockhart and wouldn’t mind meeting him in person. Say a bad word about my future husband and I’ll hex you.”

 

“Who’s got a future boyfriend?” Amelia asked as she shimmied her way into a spot beside Harry. “Arranged?”

 

“Lockhart and Merlin no,” Blaise responded, face twisting. “Can you imagine him betrothed to a eleven year old? If that were me, I’d die from embarrassment and disgust.” The others laughed, Harry just looking between them, lost. 

 

Deciding that the conversation wasn’t that fun, he went back to his fruit. He popped a grape into his mouth, munching slowly. 

 

“That’s all you’re eating?” Amelia asked, resting a hand on her cheek as she watched the younger boy eat. “You barely have a full serving on that plate.”

 

_ “I don’t eat a lot,”  _ Harry explained, his hands fast as he signed. Amelia, rather than watching the subtitles materialize, continued to follow his hand movements.  _ “Never had a huge appetite since I was little.”  _

 

“Madame Pomfrey can give you a potion to help with your appetite, if you want,” Amelia suggested. “If it’s a issue.” Harry shook his head and popped another grape into his mouth. 

 

_ “It’s fine. My Guardian has been helping me slowly eat more.”  _ Harry munched on a strawberry, eyes moving around the Hall until landing on the High Table.  _ “Are we allowed to go around the school after classes?”  _

 

“Yes,” Amelia spoke as she reached over, snatching a melon cube off his plate. “Why?” A seventh year glared at her table manners and she smiled sharply. 

 

_ “Library,”  _ was all Harry signed and turned his attention back to his plate. 

 

* * *

 

 

Charms was a blur for Harry, who struggled with the spells. Transfiguration was easier for him, his intent on changing something much more pronounced than the idea of spelling something. But for Charms, he couldn't muster up the same determination to make a feather float. He mouthed the words, did the careful wrist flicks, and nothing. Professor Flitwick had patted him on the shoulder, saying that he’d get the hang of it. If he could cast a spell, then he’d be able to do it. It just took time and patience. 

 

After Charms came Defense Against the Dark Arts. Draco all but dragged Harry behind him, Blaise and Pansy following at a more subdued pace. Harry let himself be manhandled down the hallway, shadows flicking past him out the corner of his eye. He’d have to ask his Guardian about them - there was much more traffic than usual. 

 

They got to the class early, Draco nabbing a spot up front with Harry. Blaise and Pansy sat behind them, Pansy snickering into her hand while Blaise just pulled out the needed books and papers for the lesson. 

 

The other first years took longer to trickle in. Professor Marvolo walked in, his robe gone, leaving him in a form-fitting two-piece suit. Pansy made a noise of appreciation behind Harry and Draco shot her a sneer over his shoulder.

 

“You four are early. Eager to learn?” Marvolo asked as he set his books down on his desk, leaning back against his desk. “How’s your first day been?” He crossed his arms over his chest, surveying the little snakes. 

 

“Interesting,” Draco drawled out while Harry rummaged through his bag, pulling out a pencil. Marvolo raised an eyebrow at the basic writing tool. “Though History…” 

 

“Say no more. I understand,” Marvolo spoke with a look of understanding. “So, while we wait for the rest of the class, what are you expecting to learn in this class?” 

 

“Dueling,” Blaise spoke out without hesitance. Draco nodded along, eyes bright with child-like eagerness. 

 

“Counters to Dark Charms,” Pansy responded while curling a lock of her hair around her finger. Four pairs of eyes turned to Harry expectantly. The child shook his head.

 

_ “I don’t know anything about Defense. I’m just eager to learn.”  _ His hands were slow, hesitant, and he lowered them to his lap. Marvolo observed him for a moment. 

 

“Defense Against the Dark Arts was made to teach students how to protect themselves against Dark Creatures, Dark Arts, Dark Charms, and how to duel. Did you know, Mr. Potter, that the scar on your forehead was created by a Dark Curse?” Marvolo leaned further back against his desk while Harry raised a hand, touching his scar. “The scar, while many mistake it for a lightning bolt, is actually the wand movement for the Killing Curse.” 

 

Harry blinked. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy leaned closer, enraptured by the sudden tone Marvolo gained. 

 

“The Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra.” Marvolo’s eyes were intense as they trained on Harry’s hidden scar. “No one has ever survived it.” He paused. “Of course, nobody until you came along, Mr. Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. The only one to have ever survived the Killing Curse. Defied ancient magic and lived to...well, not necessarily tell the tale, but create a legend.” 

 

Harry rubbed at his scar. He...never knew this. His Guardian had been vague, at best, about everything. Didn’t go into detail. Didn’t explain anything to him that he decided wasn’t important to know. Yes, Harry was definitely going to the library after class was done. 

 

“If you’d gone to the Courses, you’d already know this,” Marvolo spoke, voice not unkind. “From what the stories-”  _ Stories?  _ “-wrote, you were raised by Muggles. Do you have any understanding of Magic, Mr. Potter?” 

 

Students came in, effectively ending the conversation for the five. Marvolo exhaled through his nose and stood up, walking back around his desk. The desks slowly filled up and soon class began. 

 

“Good afternoon and welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Marvolo greeted, eyes roaming across the students. “As you’ve already learned in the Courses, you will be taught how to duel and to handle Dark Arts and Dark Creatures. Bulstrode, what is a boggart?” 

 

“A boggart is a shapeshifter. It takes the shape of what someone most fears. It has no definite form,” Millicent recited, voice certain. Marvolo nodded, looking to another student. 

 

“Goyle, how do you counter a boggart?” Marvolo called. Goyle jolted. 

 

“Uh… _ Riddikulus _ ?” The child sounded uncertain, looking expectantly at the man. He nodded again, pleased. 

 

“Correct. Gryffindor couldn’t even get that right and I taught that lesson just this Summer,” Marvolo drawled and the little snakes let scattered laughter fill the room. Harry was just frantically taking down notes, feeling more confused than he had that morning. 

 

He really needed to go to the library. 

 

“This year we'll be focusing and going in depth into Dark Creatures and Spells. Some Creatures such as Werewolves, Ghosts, Doxies…” Marvolo continued on and Harry’s hand was a blur, trying to catch it all. He’d look it up later. It was fine. 

 

It’d be fine. 

 

* * *

 

 

Harry walked further into the library, finding a secluded corner away from the main body. He settled down, the stack of books in his arms hitting the table with a soft thump. He looked around, not hearing any footsteps coming his way. After a horrible DADA class (of which Harry felt like it was taught in a foreign language), he’d left Draco to go study, deciding to learn as much as he could. 

 

He flipped through the first book,  _ A Tale of Legends _ , having found his own name in the Table of Contents. He found the page and smoothed out the pages, looking down at the ink. 

 

_ ‘On October 31, 1981, a legend was born. At Godric’s Hollow, during the night of Hallowe’en, the Dark Lord You-Know-Who was on a mission. He came to Godric’s Hollow on a quest to kill one Harry Potter, child of James and Lily Potter. At the sight of the Potter’s home, Albus Dumbledore, Marvolo Gaunt, and Severus Snape were sighted to have been there to defeat the Dark Lord before the unfortunate deaths of James and Lily.  _

 

_ You-Know-Who casted-’ _

 

“Reading up on your history?” 

 

Harry looked up, hands twitching as Marvolo stood in front of him, across the table, eyes taking in the text. “I was there, you know. You might have better luck asking someone who was actually there instead of some biased textbook.” 

 

Harry closed the book, pushing it away from himself with a frown.  _ “You were there that night?”  _ His hands were slow as he signed, a habit to sign to someone who wasn’t familiar with it. Marvolo, after a pause, pulled out a chair and sat down across from the child. 

 

“I was,” he spoke, dipping his head down in acknowledgement. “I got there just in time to see Lily Potter die.” Harry stared at him, gaze unwavering. Marvolo raised an eyebrow. “I tried to stop Voldemort, but he put up a strong shield. I couldn’t reach you in time - but it turned out I hadn’t needed to.” 

 

_ “Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape were also there?”  _ Harry asked, mind churning. From how young Marvolo looked, he’d have had to be at least a teenager when this event went down. He’d tried to go up against someone who was supposedly the strongest Wizard of the century? 

 

“They came after, unfortunately. I believe if they hadn’t gone to the other location…” Marvolo trailed off. “You survived the Killing Curse Voldemort cast at you. It left you that scar and orphaned. Afterwards, Dumbledore took you to your relatives while Severus and I played clean up with the Aurors and the media.” 

 

Harry nodded slowly. Marvolo opened his mouth to say something, only to click it shut quickly. He checked his pocket watch and stood. “If you ever want to ask questions about that night, don’t hesitate to come to me. Don’t skip dinner.” He left quickly. 

 

“What a curious little mouse.” A hand pressed against his forehead, combing his bangs back. “I’m sorry I’ve been...neglectful with your childhood, love. I just...dislike talking about those kinds of things.” 

 

The hand continued to comb his hair. Harry looked down at the books. 

 

“Don’t be like that. You know I hate talking about the deaths of your parents. You think I liked having to collect their souls?” 

 

Harry crossed his arms, slouching in his seat as he glared at the tabletop. He turned, meeting mismatched eyes. 

 

The person, one pale green and one vibrant blue eye, smiled gently at Harry. Their skin was blotchy, paler in tiny places, the skin tone changing with almost unnoticeable scars like stretched across their skin in mindless, jagged lines. Their hair was long and thick, the blonde and dark brown curls wild and untamable. They looked like a doll patched together with various pieces, making their awkward body all the more uncomfortable to look at. 

 

They stretched out a hand, fingernails and tips pitch black, and smoothed a thumb over Harry’s scar. 

 

“I can show you the memories, if you really want to know. How will this help you with magic, though?” Their voice was a warble, distorted and overlapping like static of a unfocused radio signal. 

 

_ “It won’t,”  _ Harry grumpily admitted.  _ “I just dislike the idea of me being...behind everyone else. I already didn’t go to school-” _

 

_ And you are still smart,  _ those hands with different fingers on each joint, signed. They poked Harry’s nose and the subtitles faded away like sand being blown away.  _ You are strong, my little Master. You’re blood is ancient and powerful and filled with knowledge. You just don’t want to access it. _

 

_ I do, _ Harry argued, face falling into a scowl.  _ I don’t know anything! I can barely perform magic as is! I-  _ He cut himself off, touching a hand to his throat. Something flashed in his eyes and he paled. Without warning he threw himself at the figure in front of him, burrowing into his chest. 

 

“Don’t worry love, magic will work for you without words,” they soothed, rubbing a hand up and down the child’s back. “Don’t worry about speaking. It’s okay.” Harry shook his head, rubbing his forehead against their chest. It was lumpy and uneven, like a pillow destroyed in the wash. They pulled away, tilting Harry’s chin up. “Now. I have to-”

 

“Harry?” 

 

Harry looked over to see Hermione standing there. Her arms were weighed down with a giant stack of books. “What are you doing there by yourself?” 

 

Harry’s eyes bounced to meet amused mismatched eyes before shrugged. 

 

_ “It was quiet,”  _ he explained, the words floating in the air lazily. A hand patted his cheek and the chair next to him vacated. He was left alone with Hermione, who smiled. 

 

“Mind if I join you?” She asked, shifting her footing. He shook his head and scooted his books out of the way. She set her books down and the two fell silent, falling into their books. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing classes in depths is not my strong suit. Sorry you have to suffer with my level of writing. Hope you enjoyed this chapter at least. I introduced death and even gave a hint about something! Yay! :)
> 
> Also. LOL Death dislikes cats because they'r said to be able to 'see the dead'. Death finds it disturbing how they just stare.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. This took a while. Sorry about that. Enjoy?

Marvolo tapped a finger to his cheekbone, a dark scowl tugging down his lips.

 

“What is that old man thinking?” He grumbled lowly to himself, a small teaspoon stirring his tea beside him. “Keeping the Philosopher’s Stone here in the school.”

 

“I have no idea, honestly,” Snape replied as he sipped on his own tea. He blinked, momentarily surprised, leaning away from his cup. “Is this basil?”

 

“Isn’t it lovely?” Marvolo picked up his own cup, taking a sip. “But why? I told the old man that I...sensed that stupid shade. That embarrassment is still alive.” He set his cup down, continuing with his tapping. “Keeping the Stone here is like welcoming it into the building for a free body.”

 

“He probably has a plan,” Snape tried to excuse. “He’s senile but he wouldn’t intentionally put hundreds of children's lives at risk.”

 

“Which is why he neglected the Potter child for eleven years?” Marvolo questioned. “I met the child in the library. He was looking up his history. The child didn’t even know about that night.” Snape paused, beady black eyes glowing in the reflected fire from the lanterns around the office.

 

“But my main concern is the feelings I’ve had since the school year began.” Marvolo touched a hand to his chest. “My soul’s calling out to that embarrassment. It’s close.”

 

“Have you told Albus? That...he’s close?” Snape frowned heavily and the younger man exhaled, letting the older adult see a uncharacteristic display of unrefined slouching.

 

“Yes. He just did that stupid eye twinkle and said it’s being taken care of.” Marvolo scowled again. “He still treats me like a child.”

 

“In all due respect, My Lord,” Snape began and tensed when red eyes narrowed on him, “you...kind of are. Compared to Voldemort. After all… you are only twenty-eight.” Marvolo’s eye twitched.

 

“Don’t remind me. That old coot’s going to hold it over my head until the day he dies.” Marvolo twirled his finger, the spoon in his teacup following the movements without touch. “Do you ever hate the fact that even though I’m a younger version of Voldemort, I still have superiority over you?” Red eyes were genuinely curious as they regarded the older man. Snape blinked once, slow.

 

“I doubt anyone likes being bossed around by someone half their age,” Snape honestly spoke, “but compared to the Lord I swore my loyalty too, you are a far safer option. You’re saner, for one.” Marvolo smirked.

 

“And you’ve rather open with your thoughts. I guess eleven years of friendship does that to one, though.” The two sat in comfortable silence, basking in the sharp smell of the basil tea.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry stopped, Draco and Blaise nearly tumbling into him from his abrupt halt. His head was turned, staring out the window towards the Forbidden Forest.

 

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked, rubbing at his shoulder. He’d been pretty forceful with his bump, not expecting the sudden collision. “Harry?”

 

It sat bitter on the back of his tongue, like rotten milk curdled under the blazing summer sun. There was a tinge of saltiness, like burning tears pouring down his throat. Cold, icy hands brushed across his shoulders in a loving hug, squeezing tight. Warmth blossomed in his chest, only to turn into a solid mass of ice without warning. As if all the good and love in the world was stolen from him, leaving nothing but bleak darkness and endless suffering. His heart hammered in his chest, steadily climbing the longer he stood there, drowning in the waves of sensations.

 

 _“I’m going to go find a Professor,”_ Harry signed quickly and before the two boys could finish reading the words, he was rushing past them.

 

“Wha-Harry!” Draco called down the hall after his friend. Harry rushed past a few Gryffindors, having just finished a Potions class with them. He slipped down the stairs, hoping Snape would still be in the classroom.

 

Snape looked up as he heard rushing footsteps echo throughout the dungeon hallway and raised an eyebrow as Harry stumbled into the classroom, one hand clenching tightly at his robe front.

 

“Something the matter, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked, tone less than welcoming. Potions had been an interesting class - the child had neat and precise in his cutting and measuring of ingredients but when it came to certain instructions, he acted like a clumsy simpleton (in Snape’s words). He obviously had experience with knives and measuring utensils. He was so exact it was almost scary. Not even Draco, who excelled at Potions, was as spot-on.

 

_“Something died in the Forbidden Forest.”_

 

Snape stared at the words. “What?”

 

 _“I-I don’t know what but something’s dead and it’s really sad and I can’t focus and-”_ the child’s hands were a blur, shaking and fumbling with the signs as thick tears beaded down his cheeks. _“Please go check?”_

 

“...” Snape’s mouth opened and closed momentarily. He - he was never good with crying children. Especially the ones who were silent in their sobs. And with what the child was saying…

 

Harry Potter was a mystery wrapped up in a puzzle locked in a unbreakable box. It was frustrating.

 

“...go to your next class, Mr. Potter. Clean your face too. It’s unbecoming of a wizard to cry.” Snape walked past the child, his robe bellowing out behind him. “And please stop trying to make up stories for attention.”

 

Harry stared after him, wiping at his face. A hand cupped the back of his neck and his shoulders relaxed.

 

“What you just felt was the death of a unicorn.” The hand was warm, thumb soothing the flesh near his hairline. “Innocent creatures, their deaths are always nasty. It’ll fade after a day. Go to your classes, okay?” Harry nodded dully, moving away from the warmth. He slipped out of the Potions classroom and went to his next class, trying to swallow down the bile that kept attempting to bubble up.

 

* * *

 

 

“Such a tragedy,” Dumbledore muttered as he knelt down next to the unicorn. “In broad daylight too.” He studied the puncture holes on the side of the unicorn’s neck, frowning. Behind him, Marvolo and Snape studied the surrounding trees. “You said Harry told you?”

 

“Yes,” Snape reluctantly forced out, crossing his arms. “He seemed too panicked to be making up a story for attention. And with what Professor Gaunt has told me…” He looked to Marvolo, who was smirking at a nearby tree.

 

“Well, old man?” Marvolo turned to Dumbledore. “This enough proof for you that I’m not _acting up_?” Dumbledore’s gaze was heavy as he stared blankly at Marvolo.

 

“You think this is Voldemort.” It wasn’t a question. Marvolo snorted.

 

“I know it’s that embarrassment. I can smell his foul magic all throughout this clearing.” He wrinkled his nose. “In case you forgot, we do share a connection.” Dumbledore nodded gravely.

 

“What of Mr. Potter, who seemed to know about this?” Snape asked, gesturing to the unicorn corpse. Dumbledore stood up, grunting as his knees popped.

 

“Harry may also share a bond with Voldemort. He did, after all, give him his scar. It may also be a side effect of surviving that curse.” Marvolo narrowed his eyes at the old man, frowning. “For now, let’s keep this quiet.”

 

* * *

 

 

Draco and Blaise kept shooting looks at Harry all throughout lunch. He lethargically poked at his fruit, eyes downcast.

 

“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked as she settled down next to the first year. “Classes go bad?”

 

“No idea. These three have just been acting weird.” Pansy took a bit of mashed potatoes, looking bored. “Not much of chatters today either.” Harry half-heartedly stabbed a strawberry and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly.

 

“Potter,” Tracey Davis spoke as she leaned over, smile tight, “mind if I ask a question about Potions?”

 

Harry blinked. _“Sure?_ ” He signed, letting the girl scoot her way closer to him. “ _What did you want to ask?_ ”

 

“When the instructions said to mince the mandrake roots, what did it actually mean? I don’t think I did it right - my potion ended up a completely different color.” Harry’s mouth fell open in a small ‘o’ before he picked up his butter knife. It was dull but it’d do. Tracey leaned against him to watch as he minced up one of his strawberries. Her face twisted.

 

“Definitely messed that up. Thanks Potter.” Tracey didn’t move, continuing to lean against him. “So, I’m curious - are you finding your classes hard since you’re a mute?”

 

“Davis,” Amelia snapped, tone warning. “That was rude.”

 

“What? I’m honestly asking,” Tracey frowned. She turned small eyes to Harry. “Well?”

 

 _“Not as bad as I thought,_ ” Harry signed, smile small. _“Though Charms is giving me some issues.”_ Tracey nodded and patted him on the back, smile wide.

 

“I’m pretty decent at Charms. I’ll help you with that class if you let me come to you for Potions.” Harry nodded eagerly at the offer and Tracey nodded back, her bobbed hair swaying with the movement. “Great. It’s a deal.” She held a hand out and Harry shook it, their hands lingering in the clasp for a moment.

 

Tracey smelt of mold and damp earth, of mildew and stagnant water. Harry’s smile twitched and he let go, the girl doing the same. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and she turned to say something to Draco.

 

Harry forced a grape into his mouth and chewed.

 

* * *

 

 

The classes blurred together and before Harry realized it, it was Thursday afternoon. Their first Flying class. It was with Gryffindor and Draco wasted no time in tugging the shorter teen after him to meet with Ron and Hermione.

 

“Harry!” Ron waved excitedly. “Draco.” His hand dropped. Hermione snorted and hugged the two, smile bright. “I haven’t flown since the summer, I’m so excited.”

 

 _“You’ve flown already?”_ Harry frowned, looking warily over at his broomstick laying innocently in the grass. _“Is it safe?”_

 

“Of course it is,” Draco spoke, nose pointing towards the sky. “After my father became Minister, he made it a mandatory requirement that brooms need cushioning spells attached to them before they can be used. If a student were unfortunate to fall, they wouldn’t be hurt.”

 

“Remember when Neville broke his arm on his grandma’s broom?” Ron snickered and Hermione elbowed him in the stomach. Harry watched as the three began to talk about childhood memories and he sourly looked over at the broom.

 

Brooms were for cleaning, not flying. He was struggling to wrap his head around it. He thought such a stereotype was exaggerated in movies and books. Apparently not.

 

 _“Do Wizards and Witches not...use umbrellas or beds to travel?”_ Harry had seen those movies during the cold holidays when his Guardian wanted to do nothing but lounge on the couch and binge _oldies_ , as he put it.

 

“....umbrellas?” Ron looked horrified. “Merlin, no! Could you imagine?” Draco gave a laugh, as if the very thought was preposterous. Hermione's eyes lit up in recognition and she elbowed Ron sharply. 

 

"He's talking about Marry Poppins," she spoke in a sharp tone that dared Ron to continue laughing. "It's a muggle movie about a nanny who has magic." Her eyebrows pinched up in confusion. "And the bed...Bedknobs and Broomsticks? The book?" 

 

Harry nodded, relief clear on his face that  _someone_ knew what he was talking about. 

 

"Sadly, those are just very creative takes on magic," Hermione spoke with a frown. "But it'd honestly be a good idea to consider easier forms of transportation than brooms. After all-"

 

"Umbrellas and beds are stupid though," Draco snapped out, expression growing dark. "Not to mention  _muggle_." He spat the word out like it was vile. 

 

Harry stared blankly at them. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned, stomping his way over to his broom. “Oi, Harry? What’s wrong?” He ignored Ron's cry. 

 

 _A person changing into a cat is considered normal but other means of transportation besides brooms is too muggle?_ Harry grumbled mentally to himself. He loved the Winter Holidays when he and his Guardian would watch _Mary Poppins_ and _Bedknobs and Broomsticks_. They were a traditional experience and Harry had based his ideas of magic based on those movies or novels like _The Hobbit,_ _The Lord of the Rings,_ and _The Worst Witch_.

 

The Wizarding World felt underwhelming compared to what Harry grew up fantasizing about.

 

He stood over his broom, studying it. It looked worn and rickety. Not sturdy at all. How was this any better than a umbrella? Or even something more conventional like a skateboard or-

 

“Alright children,” Madam Hooch called as she stomped her way over to the front of the gathered students, “Get to your brooms!” The students were quick to get to their brooms, standing beside them. Madam Hooch nodded in approval, eyeing them all.

 

“Good! Now, when I give the command, place your hand over your broom and say ‘Up’!” Madam Hooch allowed her lips to twitch in amusement as the students eagerly let their hands hover in the air over their brooms. Her eyes fell onto Harry and she frowned softy. “Now.”

 

The air was filled with the students commanding their brooms into their hands. Hermione looked pleased as it smacked against her palm, Draco and Ron following after her by a few seconds. Around Harry, the brooms lifted up. He stared down at his, frowning in concentration.

 

 _Up_ , he mouthed, his magic flaring. He felt it like tendrils, curling around the wood of the broom. His broom twitched and jerked, lifting off the grass a few inches. He was one of the last children, his peers waiting on him. Something warm and bitter coiled through his stomach and heated his cheeks and with a final flare of his magic, the broom shot up.

 

He snatched it out of the air, tightening his grip until his knuckles were white. He chanced a glance around at his peers - they were all staring at him. He’d been the last one - the actual last one to get his broom. He ducked his head, cheeks red.

 

“Alright, now, mount your brooms.” Madam Hooch was slow in showing how to properly mount the broom, straddling the handle between her thighs. The students followed suit and waited for further instructions.

 

“Now. Slowly push off the ground - just like this - and suspend in the air.” Madam Hooch showed pushing herself up onto her tip-toes, her body steadily climbing under her feet were inches off the ground. She sat there, hovering in the air.

 

Harry found it easier to lift off the ground then actually command his broom, being one of the first students to hover in the air. He gripped onto his broom, steadying himself as he wobbled. He breathed out, just letting his body get adjusted to the sudden lack of balance his legs gave him.

 

It was weird - almost familiar, to hover in the air like this. It tugged on something in his mind - something dark and cold and warm. His body felt weightless and heavy at the same time, like his corporal body was slowly leaving his soul behind.

 

“Now, slowly rise up until you are a good five feet off the ground.” Madam Hooch raised herself to the appropriate height, eyeing the students as they wobbled and fumbled. “Remember, these brooms are charmed to cushion you if you fall. Don’t be afraid if you topple over.”

 

Harry was almost absent-minded about it as he rose to meet Madam Hooch, thoughts slipping.

 

A woman, dressed in a form-fitting business suit, was standing under the floating children. Her dark hair was tied back into a tight braided bun, her hands laced in front of her with stiff posture. Her pale eyes were trained on Harry, a soft smile clashing against her cold features.

 

Harry angled his head down, watching her raise her hands.

 

 _I’m here to watch you. Master had to leave for a while_ , she signed, slow and careful in case the distance made her hard to read. The child nodded, once, and looked back to see Draco trying to titter Hermione off her broom. Ron was laughing at the two while the other students just kinda floated about. _Please do not fall. Master will reincarnate me if you end up with a broken bone._

 

Harry’s lips twitched at the words. His Guardian could get a bit heated in the moment when it involved him. He made a vague gesture, making sure it didn’t translate into his subtitles, and the woman nodded before falling back into a statue-like pose of immobility.

 

He decided he liked flying. He liked how it made him feel - that nostalgic feeling of drifting away while being anchored down. It reminded him of something. Brief flashes of porcelain, the lip of a bathtub, a glint of light off silver.

 

Cold wariness pooled in his stomach and he shook the thoughts away. He floated to the side, bumping shoulders with Hermione. She smiled in greeting, bumping back. Draco was watching Blaise kick at Pansy’s broom bristles, amusement in his grey eyes.

 

Yes, Harry liked flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This universe is gonna get wonky. LOL. On another note, I actually like the idea of Snape having tea with a saner, younger Voldemort. IDK why man, it's just enjoyable to think of Snape sitting there like, "this is my life now".


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slow and can't manage my stories properly
> 
> don't expect an update anytime soon lolol

The weeks blurred together. Harry could say with certainty that DADA was his favorite class. History of Magic was a close second, if only because of Professor Binns. His least favorite had to be Charms. He just couldn’t get the wand movements right. 

 

His classmates had warmed up to him considerably and Harry was finding close friends in Draco, Blaise, and Pansy. Tracey was a lingering outsider who floated in his general vicinity. She made light conversation when she could, her eyes always distant and the stench clinging to her flesh overwhelming. 

 

Harry didn’t know how to feel about her.

 

It was dinner time currently. He hurried down the empty hallway, mentally berating himself for losing track of time up in the astronomy tower. He’d found the high building to be peaceful and secluded for him to be alone when he needed the personal time. 

 

He stumbled his way down the moving staircases, hand clenched tightly to the railing. A arm snaked around his waist as he almost toppled down the stone steps from the sudden lurch.

 

“Careful, careful. You’ll have plenty of time to eat,” a woman’s voice laughed in his ear. Her arm pulled him back, steading him on his feet. Harry whirled, eyes going wide in happiness. His arms wrapped around the woman’s waist, hugging tightly. 

 

The portraits hung along the walls averted their gazes from the woman who seemed to appear in thin air, recognizing her business suit and the air that clung to her like a cloak. 

 

“Hello Little Master,” the woman greeted as she returned the hug. “Boss put me in charge of watching you tonight.” She twirled her blonde hair around on her dark finger, smile sharp as she observed the portraits. 

 

_ That’s fine! I missed you, Ms. Bethany!  _ Harry moved for another hug, which Bethany gladly returned. She squeezed Harry tightly, nearly lifting him off the floor. 

 

“You gotta be careful, kid! You almost took a nasty...spill…” Bethany’s smile slipped off her face, her head turning to regard the door they were standing in front of. She frowned at it. “You feel that?”

 

_ Feels wrong,  _ Harry agreed with a nod. Bethany nodded and glanced at him out the corner of her eye. 

 

“How does it feel wrong?” Bethany asked softly, pressing a hand to the wooden door. 

 

_ Feels like my ring. But - wrong. Not real. Not true. Wrong.  _ Harry’s hands shook as he frowned.  _ Not like my Guardian. Like. Like opposite.  _

 

“Exactly. Curious about what it is. Want to take a peek?” Bethany gave a wink over her shoulder as she waved a hand. The wooden door slammed open with an echoing bang in the silent hallway. She held a hand out for Harry.

 

He took it.

 

The two were slow in trickling into the darkly lit classroom. Bethany slid in front of Harry partially, ready to protect him as a giant shadow moved. 

 

A three-headed dog was snorting softly in the corner, a heavy paw resting over a trap door. 

 

_ Fluffy!  _ Harry sighed with a opened jaw.  _ I want to lay on its stomach!  _

 

“Not a chance!” Bethany hissed softly, tensing her shoulders. “Oh my god, it’s  _ Clifford _ .” She shoved Harry back towards the exit. “Whatever is emitting that wrong feeling it coming from under its paw. Must be down in a basement or something. We should-”

 

“ _ What are you doing?! _ ” 

 

Hands grabbed Harry by the shoulder and Bethany whirled around just as one of the dog’s heads shot up. 

 

Marvolo slammed the door shut and locked it with a swish of his hand, Bethany’s irritated shrieks deaf to his ears. A portrait snorted. 

 

“Mr. Potter! You know the third floor is off limits.” Marvolo looked ruffled, pushing his hair back with a hand. “If Nagini hadn’t-” He cut himself off and exhaled. “Detention, Mr. Potter.”

 

_ I didn’t -  _ Harry blinked and looked around.  _ I didn’t realize I was on the third floor! I got lost and- _

 

Marvolo shook his head, red eyes narrowed dangerously. Bethany slipped through the wall, huffing as she crossed her arms. She raised an eyebrow at Marvolo and whistled low. 

 

“Oh, it’s him. Mr. Broken.” 

 

Harry casted a glance at the woman for a moment before hanging his head. 

 

“You will serve detention with me now, Mr. Potter. Since dinner just ended-” he checked his pocket watch “-you’ll stay with me until curfew.” He turned on his heel and marched down the stairs. Harry and Bethany scrambled after him, Bethany mumbling to herself about giant dogs and broken souls. 

 

Harry trailed after the man, frowning as he thought back to the weird feeling. His Guardian and the countless watchers he had all gave off the same cold, desolate air. They all gave off this sense of hopelessness, like the will to live was being sucked up by a powerful black hole, to be devoured and never seen again. Of course, Harry was taught and raised to find comfort and solace in the feelings of Death. 

 

The feeling he’d sensed had been the complete opposite. It felt of happiness and warmth - of the sense of waking up energized. It screamed of life, of vitality. 

 

But such a thing shouldn’t be possible. At least, as far as he had been told. 

 

Harry’s ring was precious in that it could summon shades of the dead. A gift, from his Guardian, their first celebrated birthday together. His Guardian had told him that it was a one-of-a-kind ring, a special stone created from his eyes and solidified into a polished gem. 

 

But Death was the only thing you could summon. Life couldn’t be controlled in such a way that Death could. 

 

The child nearly bumped into Marvolo when he’d stopped at his personal office. He gestured for Harry to go in and the child quickly scurried in, finding a seat. Marvolo summoned a parchment and a quill, dropping it down in front of the student. 

 

“Write ‘ _ I will not break the rules _ ’ fifty times,” Marvolo instructed and moved to sit at his desk. Harry watched him, Bethany propped up beside him on the wooden surface. A clump of raw meat was at the corner of the man’s desk, looking like it’d been cut into small pieces. 

 

“Well?” Marvolo raised an eyebrow, seeing the child staring. “What are you waiting for?” Harry ducked his head and began to start on the punishment. 

 

About twenty lines in, he heard Bethany give a tight gasp. He moved to look up, only to still when Bethany’s hand kept his head bent over the parchment. 

 

“Listen to my voice,” Bethany whispered right in his ear. “Listen to me and breathe. I need you to just pay attention to me, okay sweetie? You’re such a good Master, such a smart Master, that I know you’ll listen.” 

 

The world was falling quiet as Bethany continued to whisper to him. 

 

It couldn’t block out the sudden hissing that came from Marvolo’s desk. 

 

The quill fell out of his hand, his vision tunneling along the smudged lines as his heart jumped to his throat. 

 

The air was suddenly too cold, sending chills running down his arms and back as the hissing grew louder - closer. 

 

His fingertips went numb, his chest clenching painfully as Bethany’s hands pried his face up to meet her eyes. 

 

“Pay attention to me. Only me. You can do this, sweetie. You can do this.” 

 

But he was only hearing the hissing, the choppy words that came from the curious little voice that sounded partially muffled and high-pitched. 

 

Green eyes slid to the side and fell onto the snake slithering along the classroom floor, body sliding languidly. 

 

_ “Mouse-mouse-mouse-mouse-mouse-mouse-mouse-mousie,”  _ the snake sung to the tune of  _ Pop Goes The Weasel _ . “ _ Where is my mousie~? _ ”

 

He couldn’t breathe. 

 

He shot away from the desk, parchment paper and quill flying as he scrambled backwards. Marvolo’s head snapped up from his graded papers, eyes going wide as he watched the child all but tumble into the desks behind him. 

 

“What- Mr. Potter?” Marvolo shot a glance at Nagini, finally hearing her annoyingly endearing song. “Oh, don’t worry. She’s my familiar, she won’t bite.” So the Potter child could be startled by a snake? How ironic, considering what his house was. 

 

But Harry just continued to scramble away from Nagini, shaking his head back and forth rapidly. 

 

_ [“DEVIL TONGUE-” _

 

_ “-STOP! VERNON, STOP-!” _

 

_ “-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t-”] _

 

Marvolo’s quill fell out of his hand as the desks in the classroom all but flew away from Harry in a impressive display of wandless, non-verbal magic, the child throwing himself at the door. It remained sealed shut. His magic reared up and slammed into the offending barrier of wood and magic and the professor felt a slightly strain in his own magic. 

 

He sent a pointed glare to Nagini and she quickly made her way to his pant leg, sliding up. 

 

“Potter - Harry!” The child’s shoulders hunched up and teary green eyes met intrigued red. “She’s gone. The snake’s gone. It’s okay.” He could tell Harry didn’t hear him. The child’s gaze was glossy and far away, merely reacting to his name on instinct. Sighing, he pushed himself up from the desk. Nagini slid into one of his drawers to wait and watch. 

 

He was gentle in his way over to the child, trying to coat the air with his magic to give the child a sense of familiarity.

 

He saw Harry’s shoulders slowly relax. He slowly raised his hands, holding his palms up. 

 

“Harry, it’s okay. The snake’s gone,” he repeated, seeing some light form in the chid’s eyes. 

 

He looked so haunted. 

 

Harry felt like he was underwater. Every word his professor spoke sounded garbled and incoherent. His body felt weightless but heavy, like wet clothes weighing him down from floating in a body of water. His mind was fuzzy, like his brain was replaced with cotton. He felt cold hand cupping his cheeks, heard Bethany try to soothe him. 

 

Like Marvolo, her words were lost under the current. 

 

Cold, large hands replaced Bethany’s and Harry felt like he’d breached surface, the world snapping back into clarity. 

 

Mismatched eyes were filled with concern, their pale complexion seemingly even worse in the flickering candlelight in the classroom.

 

“I’ve released the door,” they whispered in a murmur. “Go.” 

 

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He jolted away from the teacher and rushed out of the classroom, leaving behind his curious looking professor and the snake who’d taken to singing her song again.

 

 _ **"Nagini, stay out of that child's sight from now**_ **on.** " Marvolo walked over and bent down, picking up the abandoned parchment.  _ **"They child seems to have a fear of snakes."**_ ****Something Marvolo was more than a little interested in.

 

* * *

 

 

He burrowed tighter into a ball under his covers. Bethany was sitting at his back, running a hand through his hair while he cuddled against his Guardian’s chest. 

 

“I’m sorry sweetie. I’m so sorry,” she whispered over and over again. 

 

Their hands were protective and tight around his trembling form. 

 

“Note to self,” they spoke, tone positively scathing towards Bethany, “the broken one has a snake.” 

 

“Roger that, Boss,” Bethany spoke, voice emotionless. “I’ll tell the others.” The bed shifted and Harry burrowed closer to their Guardian. 

 

Phantom pains choked him, burning and biting against his throat. 

 

* * *

 

 

“You missed dinner last night,” Draco spoke the next morning at breakfast. Harry poked at his eggs in a daze. 

 

Beside him Tracey slipped some strawberries onto his place.

 

_ Got detention,  _ Harry signed with a frown. 

 

“How?” Blaise asked as he sipped on his juice. 

 

_ Saw a three headed dog on the third floor,  _ Harry spoke, expression sour. 

 

“What!?” Pansy and Tracey both hollered. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short chapter

“We’re going to get into so much trouble,” Amelia hissed out in a hush as Draco continued to slink up the steps two at a time. Behind him, Blaise and Pansy were whispering softly to Tracey. Harry, at Amelia’s side, just shrugged.

 

“Harry said there was a three headed dog!” Draco hissed back. “If there is a dangerous beast being kept in a school where it could potentially harm students, then as the Minister’s son, it is my duty to-”

 

“Oh stop taking a piss,” Blaise snorted. “You just want to see the cerberus.” Draco’s ear tips went red.

 

“Harry got a detention. What do you think’s gonna happen to us?” Amelia paused a step up. “Why am I even with you all?”

 

“Because you project your protective older-sister tendencies onto Harry as a replacement for your own younger brother?” Tracey guessed and when everyone turned to her she shrugged. “What? Everyone in Slytherin house knows it.”

 

Harry bumped arms with Amelia, smile bright. She smiled back, more tense.

 

“Think it’ll attack on sight?” Pansy asked with a wicked laugh. “Oh, this will be lovely.”

 

“Again,” Amelia reminded deadpan, “detention. Or worse - expulsion.”

 

“Pretty sure death beats expulsion,” Tracey grumbled softly to herself.

 

“My father wouldn’t allow that. We’re doing a civil duty to protect the innocent,” Draco shot back as the group stopped at the doorway. “This is it?”

 

Harry nodded, hanging back. Behind him, a man in a black suit kept repeating, “ _I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up_ ” over and over again in a whisper. Harry sent the man, Leo, a worried glance. He was one of the more shy and frazzled of his watchers. Always worried he was one step away from getting on Death’s bad side.

 

Poor man.

 

“Let’s see this dog then!” Blaise pushed open the door.

 

If he could, Harry would squeal. The dog was sprawled out on his back, all three heads lulled in various states of unconscious. His tail thumped rhythmically with his snores, his belly lifting and lowering with steady breathes.

 

Harry just wanted to crawl up one of his muzzles and fall asleep along that fuzz below his collar.

 

Unseen to everyone, Leo planted two hands on Harry’s shoulders to keep him immobile. All of the Watchers knew of the child’s affinity to cats and dogs.

 

“Oh my god,” Tracey breathed out, eyes wide. Amelia gave a panicked whine while Draco just stood there, pale and open mouthed. Blaise backed up into Pansy, who shuffled further back into the hallway.

 

“He’s huge!” Blaise hissed, whirling to look at the child who’d started this entire thing. “You never said he was this big!” Harry just shrugged and slipped out of Leo’s hands, rushing into the room.

 

“Harry!” Tracey shrieked out, blood draining from her face as the three heads jerked up at the sudden sound.

 

Harry stumbled to a halt as the dog rolled onto his paws, all three heads moving to face the child. Hot air rustled his hair and blew his robes as the dog breathed and sniffed at him. The growls that’d began dwindled off as a fat tongue poked out from the middle head.

 

“Please don’t eat him,” Leo pleaded to the dog. The left head looked at him curiously. “Please don’t eat him.”

 

“LEO!” A woman’s voice screeched. Another watcher was beside Harry, hair a frazzled mess. “OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS?!”

 

“Bethany said it’s Clifford!” Leo cried hysterically.

 

“That was before my time!” The woman stood protectively in front of Harry. She leveled a glare at the dog’s middle head. “Sit, boy!”

 

The cerberus complied and hunkered down. The room shook with the force. The students gawked at the seemingly free-willed gesture while Harry zoomed around the watchers to press his hands along the dog’s nose.

 

Fluffy, his collar read. Fluffy! A huge smile stretched across his face as he stroked at the peach-fuzz lining across the dog’s nose. Oh, what a precious doggie!

 

“No, no, no,” both watchers whined. “Little Master, please!”

 

“Harry!” Amelia cautiously made her way into the room and stopped by his side. Fluffy sniffed at her briefly before licking a wet strike up the front of Harry.

 

 _“His name is Fluffy. He’s a good boy._ ” Harry hugged his muzzle with a glance.

 

“Fluffy.” Amelia looked ready to just sit down and die. Her eyes fell to the trap door on the floor and she just continued to stare at it.

 

“Where does that lead?” Tracey slid up to beside Harry’s other side. Fluffy growled threateningly and the two watchers both stiffened. Amelia pushed Tracey backwards while Harry tried to calm him down.

 

“What is it?” Pansy called from the safety of the doorway.

 

“Why don’t you come and look?” Tracey called back as she backed up halfway away from Fluffy.

 

“Because someone needs to be lookout!”

 

“It’s an actual cerberus. Father is going to faint,” Draco wheezed out. “How can they just keep it in the school like this?”

 

“Poor doggie,” Pansy whined softly. “Locked up here alone.”

 

Harry turned his attention to the trap door. That odd feeling was back, more intense now that he was closer. It was coming from the trap door, or rather under it. Now that he was closer, he was curious to feel the sensations of Death rolling from under the trap door. It mingled with that wrong feeling of Life, bottled up and suppressed.

 

He settled down onto his knees and touched a hand to the trap door. Fluffy gave a warning bark and a fat paw swatted at him. The soft pads of his giant paw bounced off him and he tumbled heels over head once.

 

“HARRY!” Draco shrieked out, hands up in horror. “Are you okay?”

 

 _Toe beans_ , was the only thought on Harry’s mind as Fluffy plopped down beside him, a heavy paw pressing him to the ground. His hands found the puffy mounds of flesh and he pressed into them. **_TOE BEANS!_ **

 

“This is why he should have had a dog,” Leo whispered in dread. “So he wouldn’t go out and try to adopt beasts like this.”

 

“Um guys?” Pansy’s voice wavered in sudden anxiety. “I can’t move!”

 

Ice filled their veins as the air in the room suddenly thinned. They couldn’t move. Footsteps echoed almost intimidatingly as their panic began to set in.

 

“I thought detention would have knocked some sense into you,” Marvolo spoke as he appeared at the doorway, planting a hand heavily on Draco’s shoulder, “but I can see you need something more than writing lines.”

 

His face was expressionless but by how Draco winced, his anger was quite clear. The children exchanged looked as they found they could move again. Marvolo’s expressionless mask crumbled.

 

“Are you-” His eyes trailed from Fluffy’s paws to Harry, contently rubbing his cheeks against the fuzzy toes. He just stared, mouth opening. “Oh my god.”

 

“We know,” the watchers commented despite no one being able to hear them. “We know.”

 

“Get off the ground now!” Marvolo pinched the bridge of his nose. Amelia and Tracey sent him understanding looks. “Just - all of you. Detention! If you think this is all fun and games, then how about a patrol in the Forbidden Forest?”

 

“That’s like,” Amelia licked her lips, “the opposite of a good detention. Isn’t that worse than being in here?”

 

“I mean,” Blaise piped up, “both are Forbidden, so really…”

 

“OUT!” Marvolo’s magic wrapped around the children and they were lurched out into the hall. Harry waved goodbye to Fluffy as the door slammed shut behind them.

 

“You are an impossible lot! I expected more from you three in particular.” His eyes pointedly stared at Draco, Blaise, and Pansy. “Slytherins acting like dunderheaded Gryffindors. I never thought I’d see the day.”

 

“This is endangering students!” Draco stuttered out. “When my father hears about this-”

 

“Lucius knows,” Marvolo cut off. “He signed off on us being able to have the cerberus within the school walls. But please, tell him that you’re breaking school rules and sneaking around outside of curfew.” Draco clammed up.

 

“So Forbidden Forest, was it?” Tracey started amidiably.

 

* * *

 

 

“This was a horrible idea,” Leo groaned out. “Why on earth would they send out children in a spooky forest?”

 

“Because education system, am I right?” Bernadette teased as she elbowed Leo. “Come on. Boss won’t punish you. We’ve yet to have him bleed.”

 

“Don’t jinx it!” Leo sobbed.

 

Harry continued to tag behind Marvolo. He’d been split up with the teacher while Hagrid and Fang took the other students. He looked around at the surroundings, not at all wary of the drab appearance. Death clung loosely to the vines and the shrubs and the soil, but not enough to make him anxious. Instead, it reminded him of Mrs. Figg’s house.

 

“Unbelievable. You should have been in Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Just unbelievable.” Marvolo continued to grumble to himself. Harry smiled softly to himself - he liked to see the man act natural and not all forced and proper.

 

“ _Sorry Professor Gaunt. I just really like dogs._ ” Harry’s hands trembled in the faint chill that blanketed the foggy forest. “ _So what’s hidden under that trap door?_ ”

 

His Guardian always encouraged questions.

 

Marvolo glanced at him, red eyes narrowing in curiosity.

 

“How do you know anything is under there?” He stopped walking and Harry paused as well.

 

“ _Feels weird. Wrong. Like leaving the window open in the winter and going to bed._ ” Harry concentrated on trying to explain it properly. Marvolo’s eyes widened momentarily before his expression smoothed.

 

“Your magic felt it?” It was a hushed whisper. “All the way down there?”

 

Whatever _it_ was, it must have been important for it to be hidden away.

 

“ _Yes?_ ” Harry’s expression scrunched up. “ _It wasn’t hard to feel. It’s very striking._ ”

 

Marvolo rolled the information over in his mind. The child could _feel_ the Philosopher’s Stone, hidden under layers and layers of protective magic? The child’s magic could sense and put a description to his sensation of the Stone’s own magic? Even Albus had trouble making sure the Stone was constantly in it’s chamber. If it weren’t for the wards he’d placed to alert him to any movements, he’d constantly be checking to make sure it was still there.

 

But this child, this _magically underdeveloped child_ could sense it and even be snarky about it?

 

His magic was powerful. No wonder Voldemort had marked him as his equal. The child showed promise and if Marvolo could help him grow-

 

He suppressed the tingles of anticipation. The very idea of cultivating the child’s magic, of tutoring him before anyone else could get their hands on him, brought a sense of glee that he hadn’t felt since he found the Chamber of Secrets.

 

370 feet in the air, perched on the very tip of a tree, heterochromic eyes glared down at Marvolo.

 

“I don’t like him,” Death stated to their two Watchers. Leo and Bernadette, sitting on lower branches under them, saluted to them.

 

“Roger Boss. Want us to keep Harry occupied?” Bernadette asked as she tilted her head back to stare at Death.

 

“Yes. I dislike that broken man and his broken snake.” Two-colored eyes narrowed. “Especially his snake.”

 

“I can kill it.” Leo’s nervousness melted away. “To not bring any more pain to our Little Master?”

 

Death hummed out thoughtfully.

 

“No. The snake may prove helpful in the future for my Master. For now, just keep doing what you are doing.” Their nose crinkled. “But please keep him away from animals. I don’t want smuggled cats in the house by summer.”

 

Bernadette snorted out a giggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to figure a few things out for this story so don't expect a update any time soon lol


	7. Chapter 7

The Hall was bustling with excited chatter. Harry listened to his fellow year-mates speak in hushed whispers, eyes sparkling in delighted anticipation. 

 

“They used to have it to where only third years and up could go to Hogsmeade,” Draco explained with a childlike smile stretching his face nearly in two. “But after Father became Minister, he worked with Headmaster Dumbledore to get younger students the privilege to experience the village. Since students were already introduced to the area during the Acts, it made it-”   
  


Pansy shoved a hand in Draco’s face, shoving him away. “You’ve never experienced Hogsmeade, have you? Oh, you’ll love it! Butterbeer is delicious! It’s not actual alcohol, though honestly enough Purebloods have tasted enough to not even be affected-”

 

Amelia rolled her eyes as she settled next to Harry, smiling kindly at him. “First years and second years are allowed to go to Hogsmeade as long as they have a chaperone of a third year or higher. So, where would you like me to take you first?” 

 

Harry’s eyes shined as he smiled shyly. “ _ I have no idea,”  _ he signed. “ _ We can just walk around? _ ”

 

“Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger will be joining us,” Draco spoke up, shoving Pansy’s hands away from his face. “You got your permission slip signed, right?” 

 

Harry stilled. Unseen by everyone but the ghosts keeping their distance, a hand brushed along his shoulders. “Check your bed after breakfast. Boss left it on your pillows.” The child took another bite of his hashbrowns, smiling softly. 

 

“ _ I left it on my bed. I’ll go get it. _ ” Harry scooped the last of his breakfast into his mouth and left, the hand still staying on his back. Down the stairs he went, one hand becoming two.

 

“I’ll be following you today,” Bethany explained as they slipped into the common rooms, the woman looking around at the stone walls with a disgusted look. “Just in case.” 

 

Harry nodded and went to his room, finding the permission slip on his pillow. Written in perfectly circular cursive was  _ Petunia Dursley.  _ The child stared at the penmanship for a moment, tracing the letters with his fingers. It was her exact handwriting, not a line out of place. He remembered her handwriting very distinctly, having watched her scribble out notes upon notes to neighbors, housewives, and teachers alike about her child. She’d take care of the household finances, in charge of writing checks and tracking bills. He’d watch her write, mesmerized with her swirling, rounded letters, always wishing he could write like her. 

 

“Little Master?” Bethany called, lingering near the door. “Breakfast will be ending soon. If you want a chance to go, let’s get a move on it.” 

 

_ Sorry _ , Harry signed and moved to lead the woman out the dorm. The walk back to the Hall was silent. Bethany watched her Master, frowning at the new, saddened air around him. Mentally deciding to talk to her Boss about it later, she fluffed up his already out of control hair. 

 

“I heard these magic folk have ridiculous sweets. We can treat ourselves today.” She winked. “My lips are sealed. We won’t tell Boss.” Harry smiled and soundlessly gave a soft giggle. Her expression softened. 

 

“Tell me what?” 

 

Both of them jumped, whirling to the door leading back to Harry’s sleeping quarters. Death raised an eyebrow, leaning against the stone wall. Harry shot forward, slamming into the being’s midsection. Their arms lifted the child up effortlessly, cradling him in the crook of their left arm. 

 

“Hello, my Little Master. Did you get your permission slip?” Harry nodded, squeezing around Death’s neck tightly. Bethany politely looked away, fiddling with her hair. “Now, what were you going to keep secret?” 

 

_ Sweets!  _ Harry signed out, grinning corner to corner. Bethany face-palmed while Death raised an amused eyebrow.  _ Are you going to come with us to Hogsmeade?  _ Death made a show of considering it, twirling around in circles with Harry still in his arms. 

 

“I may pop in. I have business. There was a massive earthquake over in California. Got to go make sure the casualties are properly catalogued and the souls are taken to their designated stations.” Death set Harry down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Love you, Master. Bethany, make sure he stays out of trouble.”

 

Bethany gave a tense salute and Death melted into the shadows, disappearing. Harry turned to Bethany, holding a hand out. 

 

_ Let’s go!  _ The woman laughed as she was dragged out of the room. 

 

Peeking from a crack in the stones, near the fireplace, a forked tongue flicked out to taste the air. 

 

* * *

 

 

“We can go to Honeydukes first,” Amelia explained as she swung Harry’s hand in hers, Hermione on her other side. Hermione, positively glowing, was chattering with Draco and Neville about her newest studies. 

 

Trailing behind them, Pansy, Blaise, and Tracey whispered softly. They were more reserved around non-Slytherins, despite apparently knowing the three other year-mates. 

 

“I completely forget you’ve never experienced this before,” Hermione chattered, turning her head to Harry. “It’s  great experience. Just remember to stick close to Amelia here. If a Professor sees you wandering alone by yourself, you’ll get detention for sure.”

 

“ _ Thank you for the advice! I’ll be sure to stay close. _ ” Harry’s eyes slid to the side, seeing a shop of herbs. His gaze bounced to the other shops, seeing a wand shop, green grocers, a bookstore. The shops stretched on, up the snowy incline. 

 

Trailing behind them, Bethany gave a choked noise. “Oh man, one of them is here.” Harry discreetly glanced behind them to see her glaring at a cloaked figure leaning against the building side of the wand shop. Catching Bethany’s eyes, she shooed him back to face the front. “Ignore me, Little Master. It’s nothing.”

 

Didn't explain why the cloaked figure reeked of death. 

 

“After we get some candies, we can go to the Three Broomsticks. They have this drink, called butterbeer. It’s delicious!” Amelia tightened her hand around Harry’s smiling. The child nodded and tried to stifle his excitement as they drew closer to the candy shop. 

 

“You have your coin pouch, right?” Bethany fluttered around his shoulders. “I’ll help you pick out stuff for everyone. We can have an offering tonight before bed, deal?” Harry beamed to the floor, which she took as a positive response. She flickered around the store, eyeing the sweets. 

 

“It’s amazing, yeah?” Ron grinned at Harry’s wide eyes. He just took a moment to eye the lined shelves upon shelves of confections, the images on the boxes moving and shimmering. There were so many different varieties, ranging from chocolate frogs to skeletal sweets. He walked carefully around the tables and shelves, reading each label with interest. 

 

“Here, here!” Bethany pointed vigorously at a table of colorful boxes. “We can get these to share!” Harry wandered over and blinked at the No Melting Ice Cream. He studied the package. Oh, it was perfect! The perfect offering! He grabbed 5 packages, turning to face the checkout counter. Tracey was staring at him, lingering over by the Chocolate Wands. 

 

“What are you buying?” Tracey was by his side in a second, smile friendly and openly curious. Harry showered her his find and she made a ‘ooh’ sound at it. “I’m getting these.” She showed him the jelly beans, smile more tense. “Best of luck.” 

 

Harry nodded and quickly paid for his items, moving to wait by the door for everyone else to finish. Neville joined him, looking a bit overwhelmed.

 

“Never really been one for crowded areas,” he explained when Harry looked at him in concern. “Having fun?” He was trying to draw the conversation away from himself, Harry noted. Either to be polite or because he didn't want the attention. 

 

“ _ Want to go wait outside? _ ” Harry signed, gesturing to their friends finishing up their shopping. “ _ Get some fresh air? _ ” Neville’s shoulders slumped and he nodded gratefully. Harry and him slipped out of the front door, Bethany following with a skip in her step. 

 

“How are you liking school? Making friends?” Neville asked as they leaned up against the building’s front, letting the cold air slide through them. The weather was getting colder and colder. Soon it’s be October. “You know, my Gran says we got lucky with Hogwarts. They’ve done a lot of changes since Minister Malfoy has been in power.”

 

“ _ Good or bad? _ ” Harry asked, tucking into his robes further. “ _ How is your House? Making a lot of friends _ ?”

 

Neville’s smile was soft. “I’m the  _ Traitor _ . Friends with a Death Eater’s child. No matter how much has changed in the last decade, some things stay the same.” 

 

Death Eater? What was that? What did that have to do with anything? Was Neville being ostracized, then? Was he lonely? He seemed pretty confident when he was around Hermione, Ron, and Draco. But were those his only friends? 

 

“ _ If anyone bothers you, _ ” his hand signs were careful and slow to show how serious he was, “ _ tell me. I don’t like my friends being hurt. _ ” Neville’s eyes widened before he smiled softly. 

 

“Thanks Harry. You know, you’re everything the stories said about you. Brave, kind hearted. A real Hero, you know?” No, he didn't know. He kept his hands still, deciding to let Neville continue. “It was my choice to befriend Draco. You can’t judge a child by their parent’s mistakes, right?” 

 

“Whooooa,” Bethany breathed from Harry’s shoulder. “He’s a mature little tyke, isn’t he?” Harry shrugged her off. 

 

“ _ I guess. Draco is nice. Don’t listen to people, they’re just mean _ .” Harry knew that very well. 

 

“Thanks.” Neville stood up. “I’m going to go back inside for a second. Be right back.” Harry watched him disappear back into the shop before shooting up.

 

“No,” Bethany called as he began to march down the street. “Little Master, you can’t wander off alone!” He slipped past students, darting through a group of sixth years. 

 

Marvolo, talking to Severus, paused and closed his eyes. “Did Potter just run by here by himself?” Severus looked back and saw the child look around before daring to the left. 

 

“Yes. Should I go grab him or-?”

 

“Professors!” Hermione, Pansy, and Tracey were rushing towards them. “We lost Harry!” 

 

“I’ll go,” Marvolo exhaled and turned on his heel.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry followed the rank stench of wet earth and sewage down an alleyway. Bethany was at his side, expression guarded as a cloaked figure got closer and closer towards them. 

 

The cloaked figure looked up at the approaching footsteps and their head tilted to the side. 

 

“You haunt this child?” The figure asked, voice downright icy. “He is but a mere babe. Leave him, foul snatcher. Go collect someone else.”

 

“Hey!” Bethany snapped, stepping in front of Harry and placing her hands on her hips. “That’s really rude, sir!” 

 

The man lowered his hood. Pale flesh, stretched across a skeletal frame. Bright pink scars criss-crossed back and forth across their face, stretching from one cheekbone to the next. Milky eyes stared past her, above Harry’s head. His teeth were yellowing and spaced with gaps. 

 

“You snatch souls and trail death wherever you go. Who is the rude one?” The man’s gaze flickered around the alley, narrowing. “Why do I smell such a strong sense of death on you, child?” Those eyes widened as they settled directly on Harry. “You’ve been to the Stations.” 

 

Bethany hissed low in her throat, shielding him to the best of her ability. 

 

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as Bethany blocked him. The man smelled like death. He saw and spoke to Bethany. He saw? Did his eyes see what others could not, like Harry? But what did he mean? Stations? What-

 

_ “DEVIL’S TONGUE!” _

 

-Stations?

 

“Not going to speak?”

 

“He can’t.” 

 

Harry jolted as a tight hand fell on his shoulder. Marvolo scowled down at him. “I thought you weren’t allowed to wander around without a Ministry representative.”

 

“Bah! The Broken Man wants me to be babysat!” The man hobbled backwards, eyes still on Harry. “Broken Man, ask the small child why he smells like Death. Why he as a Snatcher hovering over him like a starved dog.”

 

“I’m not a dog!” Bethany screeched. “You Taboo-!”

 

“Begone, sir. Or I will report you,” Marvolo brandished his wand. “Now.” The man disappeared in a swirl of his cloak, leaving Marvolo alone with Harry. He sighed, crouching down to the child’s height. “You are possibly the biggest trouble magnet I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.”

 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Harry signed back cheekily, smile wide. Marvolo rolled his eyes. “ _ Who was that man _ ?”

 

“If you’d gone to the Acts…” Marvolo fixed his hair back and stepped out of the alleyway, pocketing his wand. Bethany and Harry followed. “That was a Necromancer, Mister Potter.”

 

Necromancer? Those people that his Guardian didn't speak about fondly? They were Taboo-users, those who broke all the rules to summon the dead. They were the ones who gave Harry’s Hallows a bad rep, those who bent nature for their own selfish nature. 

 

“They aren’t very well liked or accepted in society.” Marvolo’s face spasmed. “Voldemort, himself, is a Necromancer. He creates soulless vessels of those he killed. An undead army. Necromancy is a dying culture.”

 

How ironic.

 

“No one can properly summon the dead. Not unless they had the… Nevermind. Why, Mister Potter, were you chasing after him by yourself?” He tugged on the child’s ear once harshly before letting go. “Detention and from now on, if you want to go to Hogsmeade, you must be with either myself or Professor Snape.”

 

“ _ That’s fair _ ,” Harry agreed and looked back to where the man had disappeared. The man had been blind. But he acted like he could see the three of them so perfectly. He spoke of Bethany by her duty, her job. Could he sense them by the air that clung to them? See them from the Veil? And why did everyone keep calling Marvolo the Broken Man? 

 

“Come along, Mister Potter. Your friends are probably driving Severus to commit a crime in the name of peace and quiet,” Marvolo took Harry’s shoulder again and led him away from the alley. 

 

* * *

 

 

“A Necromancer?” Death lounged back against Harry’s bed, the curtains drawn. Harry, situated at the end of the bed, nodded as he situated the five packages of No Melt Ice Cream out onto the sheets. Death curled their index finger and one of the packages floated into their awaiting hand. They ripped through the wrapping and popped one into their mouth. 

 

“He was extremely rude,” Bethany said stiffly, standing behind Harry at the foot of the bed, arms crossed behind her back and head held high. “Was very rude to Little Master too.” Harry shrugged his shoulders, raising his hands to his face. He clasped them, bending over his fingers as he closed his eyes. 

 

“These offerings are for you,” Death recited softly for Harry, the remaining packages glowing a faint black outline. “To enjoy in the afterlife.” The packages dissolved. Bethany steely expression softened as a small piece of No Melt Ice Cream appeared in front of her. She took it and smiled, ruffling Harry’s hair. Popping it into her mouth, she frowned. 

 

“He said that the Little Master had been to the Stations.” 

 

Sharp mismatched eyes met hers before they slid back to Harry, who had sprawled out more comfortably at the end of the bed. 

 

“How does that make you feel, Little Master?” Death held a hand out and Harry shimmied his way up to sit by their stretched knee. 

 

_ Necromancy is Taboo, right? You always said those who tried to control the dead against their will were bad, right?  _ Harry asked as Death bit into another piece of candy. They hummed. 

 

“I did indeed. Necromancy is Dark Magic. Humans have tried, for centuries, to master the art of resurrecting and controlling the dead. To bring a loved one back. It cannot be done. Not unless you are the Master of Death. Like you.” Their discolored fingers trailed through his hair. “Only you can do what everyone wishes to accomplish.”

 

_ Why does everyone call Professor Gaunt the Broken Man?  _ Harry leaned into the gentle touch, frowning. 

 

“Because the man’s soul is broken. You’ve probably felt it, right? How he smells of Death. His soul is shattered. He is merely a fragment of a whole.” Death smiled, not unkind, and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “Now, go to sleep, Little One.” 

 

Harry slumped over in an instant. Bethany helped situate him under the blankets. 

 

“That Stone that the dog is keeping hidden,” Death spoke and Bethany was at attention once more. “Why do you think Dumbledore brought it here, of all places? Nicolas gave me his word that no mortal would lay eyes on it.” 

 

“Would you like me to find out, Boss?” Bethany stared straight away. Death hummed and ran a hand over their chin in thought. 

 

“Yes. He can see you thanks to my gift, so make the visit quick. I dislike My Master being by himself for so long. He gets lonely.” 

 

Bethany nodded and disappeared. Death sat at the edge of the bed, watching Harry sleep. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ [“Can ‘a ‘ead me a storhee?”  _

 

_ “What have I told you?” Death picked Harry up, inspecting the new bruises lining his face. “You must think before you speak.” A tiny nose scrunched up cutely before the rats nest nodded. _

 

_ “Can… Can you read - read me a… A story?” Bright green eyes peered uncertainty up at Death. Death settled down under a shaded tree on the outskirts of the park, away from Petunia’s hawk-like gaze.  _

 

_ “What type of story would you like, Little Master?” Pale, cold fingers ran through those thick curls and Harry blinked up at the creature.  _

 

_ “Happy?” The little child looked so hopeful. “Pwease?” _

 

_ “Please,” Death corrected. “And a happy story? Well, alright then.” The wind blew past them, gentle and warm. “Once, there was a boy, destined to defeat a great evil.”] _

 

_ Harry nestled against their rock-solid hard chest and listened to the tale spun above him. For a while, he could pretend that he didn't have to go back with his Aunt and cousin. For a while, he could pretend this was his family.] _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you've noticed, some things have changed! First of all - every year is allowed at Hogsmeade! Nice nice! As long as they are chaperone, it is all good. 
> 
> Second - Necromancy is gonna be a thing. Yeah. 
> 
> I've got a rough idea of what I wanna really do with this story. Bare with me as I try to figure it all out and get it into the story lol


	8. Chapter 8

Halloween had come fast. 

 

The Hall seemed to transform, the tables decorated in cobwebs and laughing skulls. Jack-o-lanterns bobbed along in the air, bats fluttering about before exploding into confetti at random moments. 

 

The desserts on the tables matched the theme of the holiday, tasting of pumpkin spice and custard. The students and professors were in a lighter mood, basking in the air tinged with more powerful magic the upcoming night brought. 

 

The Earth was bathed in ancient magic, formed from the spiritual bridge connecting the living to the dead. On the night of Samhain, Witches and Wizards felt that bridge, that connection, and let their magic grow. If only for a night. 

 

Harry felt the magic stirring around him, coiling through his core like threads of ribbons. It coursed through him, feather light, caressing him tenderly. Ancient magic, connected to the long-lost souls of the dearly departed, welcomed him with butterfly kisses and warm hands to his own magical core. 

 

He wondered, as he reached for another ladle of porridge and fruit cubes, if anyone else could feel how saturated the Earth was during this day. Besides his Guardian and  _ babysitters _ , he’d never really thought about if normal people could connect with the Dead’s Magic like he could. 

 

Not that he ever had a reason to wonder before, though. 

 

But unlike everyone else, who either celebrated the Christian representation of the date or the Celtic rituals that spanned across time, Harry had nothing to celebrate. 

 

It was his parents Death Day, after all. 

 

It seemed to be common knowledge, too, if the whispers and glances were anything to go by. The Professors kept sending him pitying looks when they thought he wasn’t paying attention and his few friends were politely letting him keep to himself. 

 

It was actually pretty annoying, if he took the time to consider it. The day of their deaths was supposed to be a private, personal affair that only him and his Family were privy to. He didn't like the idea of it being some sort of attraction, opened to stares and condolences for people he couldn’t be with. 

 

He popped his spoon into his mouth, in a sour mood. Behind him, Leo soothed a hand up and down his back. 

 

Almost time. 

 

* * *

 

 

“As you know,” Marvolo spoke as a piece of chalk scratched out on the blackboard behind him, levitating with the help of his magic, “today marks a very significant day in Wizarding History.” 

 

A few students casted sidelong glances at Harry, who tried to fix his quill’s blotching ink. He wished he had a pencil or a ballpoint pen. This was just getting ridiculous. 

 

“Can anyone tell me what exactly happened today?” No one raised their hands, eyes finding Harry again with hesitance. Marvolo rolled his eyes, lips twitching downwards in barely concealed disappointment. “Well it certainly wasn’t just the death of the Potters, was it?”

 

A few of the students gawked up at him for his bluntness. “Voldemort also perished this exact day eleven years ago. This was the date that the world was ridden of a utterly incompetent idiot.” His expression soured for a moment before he coughed. The students barely batted an eyelash for his open disdain for the Dark Lord - his rants on the Wizard were famous during the Courses Lessons. 

 

“What was the Unforgivable used that night?” Again, no one spoke. Marvolo barely suppressed a scowl. Why bother asking questions if everyone was just going to clam up? It wasn’t like this was new news - it happened eleven years ago. 

 

“The Killing Curse,” Draco spoke up finally. Marvolo nodded, expression lightening. 

 

“That’s correct. Now, according to the text books, Mr. Potter here survived only because of of an Ancient spell cast by his mother’s love.” Marvolo himself had been quoted for that reason during the interview - Dumbledore had gone to take the boy to his Muggles’ relatives house. 

 

“The magic Lily Potter used that night is called a Sacrificial Charm. It’s created the moment someone sacrifices their life for someone else. Their sacrifice forms an magical bond that is then… soaked, in a sense, into their chosen person’s blood.” All eyes were back on Harry, who kept his head ducked down and his quill moving. Behind him, Leo gave a unimpressed grunt. “It grants the person unlimited protection, even far after the sacrifice’s death.” 

 

Marvolo continued on with the lesson. Harry glanced up from behind his bangs and Leo whispered the time to him. 

 

Almost. 

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day was a blur. Harry’s hands barely signed anything the entire course of their lessons, his expression blank and his eyes seemingly far away. Everyone gave him his space, believing they understood his solemn behavior. 

 

Harry ate dinner in a haste before leaving the table, determination guiding his steps. He slipped down the stone hallways with Leo hot on his heels. 

 

“The Forbidden Forest,” Leo spoke as Harry entered his room. “. On your bed-” he gestured to Harry’s drawn curtains “-is everything you need.” 

 

Harry brushed past his curtains and his face lit up for the first time that day, seeing the neatly folded silken fabric and a simple ring laying on his pillow. He rushed over, his fingers almost ghosting over the material. He slipped the ring on without hesitation, the deep black color twinkling almost merrily at him. He sat along his bed, thumb stroking over the jagged lines carved into the rock’s surface. Wrapped in gold metal, it fit snuggly along his index finger like it was only ever supposed to be wore by him. Like it was made for him and him alone. 

 

He grabbed the fabric and tossed it around his shoulders. 

 

Like a long awaited hug, it settled along his body and something in his mind clicked. The shimmering, starry sky like material glistened and his body disappeared from view. Leo stiffened for a moment before breathing out and holding a hand out. Harry grasped his hand and the world twisted and rippled like a water’s reflection disturbed. Harry appeared before Leo again, smile wide. 

 

“Let’s go, Little Master. You don’t want to be late.” Invisible to anyone who’d chance to look, Leo picked up Harry delicately in his arms and disappeared into the shadows. 

 

Nagini’s forked tongue flickered out, no longer tasting the human child’s scent in the room. So, so curious. 

 

* * *

 

 

Leo gently let Harry down onto his feet and the Invisible Cloak shimmered once more before becoming visible like any average cloak. Settled in a clearing in the Forest, Death looked down from their moon gazing. Nodding to Leo, the man disappeared from the silent dismissal. 

 

“Come, Little Master. You’ve been patient all day.” Death held their hand out and Harry stepped over, clasping their pale fingers. “Alright. Call them.” Their fingers tightened around Harry’s in a brief squeeze.

 

Harry let go of Death and used his free hand to touch the ring along his opposite finger. Closing his eyes, he focused hard. 

 

“Wow, has it been a year already?” 

 

His eyes flew open. Instead of the usual muted green that only ever seemed to shine in the sunlight, his eyes were glowing an electric green that was reminiscent to the Killing Curse magic. His lips slit into a huge grin, showing his teeth, and he took a step closer. 

 

“You need a haircut, love.” Standing across from him, bathed in the pale moonlight, were his parents. Visibly transparent around the edges, they looked more corporal than any of the spirits who wondered Hogwarts. Lily smiled sweetly, still looking the same from the day she died. James looked the same, save for the absence of blood or torn clothes. 

 

“I haven’t had the time to trim his bangs,” Death admitted with a polite nod in greeting. The Potters bowed to him, heads ducked down in show of respect. 

 

“Lord Death. Thank you for caring for our son for another year,” James greeted, smile tinged with melancholy. “So, Slytherin, huh?” 

 

_ It isn’t that bad!  _ Harry signed, hands flying fast.  _ Besides the… snake…. It’s okay!  _ His grin was blinding.  _ Professor Snape and Professor Gaunt don’t really seem to like me too much though.  _

 

“Snape’s a git. Ignore that man-child,” James snapped, wincing when Lily elbowed him in the side.

 

“Shush, James. Severus is one of his Professors - he must respect him. We see you are friends with the Malfoy heir. He’s a bit different from what I imagined.” 

 

Harry tilted his head to the side before shrugging, plopping down onto the ground without care. Lily and James followed, sitting close enough that their knees almost touched his. Death linged near the edge of the clearing, watching with a sadly tender look on their face. 

 

_ Draco is funny. Blaise and Pansy too. I haven’t really hung out too much with Hermione or Ron or Neville. Tracey is also nice, though a bit weird.  _ Harry, using the hand with the ring, reached out and touched Lily’s hand. She wrapped her fingers around his, eyes moist. 

 

“Don’t worry, love. You’ll become great friends with all of them soon. So, tell me about this hidden trap door. You really just couldn’t stay away from the Cerberus, could you?” Besides her, James laughed. 

 

Harry pouted while Death, trying to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping, scoffed. 

 

_ He’s a good doggie!  _ Harry challenged with a pout.  _ Three heads for three times the kisses!  _

 

“You mean three times the slobber,” Lily laughed out. “Trust me, after a while the dog slobber becomes an annoyance. Sirius used to just drool to get on my last nerve.” Harry’s expression flattened. Lily sent him a pointed look. “No, I will  _ not  _ teach you the spell for transforming. We do not need another Animagus in our family. Right Lord Death?” 

 

“That’s right,” Death agreed before sniffing. “I don’t want to have to vacuum up cat hair.” 

 

“He’d be a stag, though,” James argued with a cheeky grin. “Or maybe a doe.” 

 

“Certainly not!” Lily looked insulted. “He seems like he’d be more like something nobel - a panther or lion!” 

 

“Which justifies my cat hair argument,” Death grumbled to themselves. Harry let the three bicker, content. Death pulled out a pocket watch from the shadows by their feet. They sighed. “Tsunami just killed thousands. I’ll be back in a moment, love.”

 

“No wonder the Station was getting a bit stuffy,” Lily mused aloud. Death stood and nodded to the three before disappearing into their shadow. “So, tell me all about Potions!”

 

* * *

 

 

**_“The silent child disappeared._ ** ”

 

Marvolo paused in writing, lifting his head up to stair straight into air. He took a few moments to count mentally down from 10 before exhaling. 

 

“Please tell me he snuck down to the kitchens.” He set his quill down onto his desk. Nagini’s head bobbed side to side. 

 

**_“He was in his room, talking to some man. He put on some fabric and a ring and then disappeared into thin air with the man!_ ** ”

 

He raised his hand to his nose, pinching the bridge of it to stave off an oncoming headache. This wasn’t the first time Nagini had mentioned adults around the Potter child. Besides the last report of a strange man appearing from the shadows and  _ dancing  _ with the child around his room, the snake’s words could only be taken with a grain of salt. 

 

Despite her intelligence, Marvolo considered that certain concepts and words just didn't translate correctly. 

 

“Give me a moment.” Marvolo reclined in his seat and stretched his magic out. He expanded the field, looking for that unique wisp of magic that he was growing familiar sensing. The castle was bare of it. Raising his eyebrows, he concentrated further. It flickered just out of his grasp, in the Forbidden Forest. “Of course he’d be breaking curfew.” He stood from his desk. “Stay here.” 

 

He rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbows, checking for his wand. Nagini watched, almost smug, as he left in a brisk walk. 

 

He was such a pushover. 

 

* * *

 

 

“You do not have to do that!” Lily shoved James’ face, expression bemused. “You are too young to be thinking of girls or boys or anything!” 

 

“No he isn’t! He’s eleven!” James argued as he tickled at Lily’s side, making her squeak and duck away from him. “If you’ve got a crush, act on it, son!”

 

“Is that a good idea though?” Bethany, the replacement to oversee their meeting, commented. She’d procured a magazine, flipping through it idly. Harry wondered if Death had enchanted it to be touched by her. “I don’t even think he’s going to hit puberty at the average age.” 

 

“He’s shoot up like a weed,” James snapped with a frown. “I did.”

 

“I’m on the shorter side and with what  _ that woman  _ and her family did….” Lily’s expression darkened. “Anyways, it’s alright sweetie if you don’t grow immediately.” 

 

Harry shrugged.  _ I don’t care. I’m not worried about growing taller.  _

 

“Good. Focus on having fun, studying, and staying out of trouble,” Lily said with a nod. James made a silly face at her words. 

 

“No, play a few pranks and cause disastrous amounts of chaos! Make Snape regret ever deciding to become a-”

 

A twig snapped and Bethany’s head snapped up. “Cut off the connection!” 

 

Harry slipped off the ring, catching a glimpse of his parents’ sullen expressions. The clearing seemed suddenly desolate and bleak, the moon’s light no longer as radiant. 

 

Marvolo stepped through the trees, wand tip alit with a Lumos. He stared blankly at Harry. “Detention, Mr. Potter.” 

 

Harry stood up from the ground, slipping his ring behind his back. Bethany circled him, plucking it out of his opened hand. 

 

“I’ll return this,” she whispered and disappeared. 

 

“I won’t ask what you are doing out here,” the man’s eyes slide over the Cloak, “and instead you can explain to me where you got a Invisibility Cloak.” 

 

_ “It was my father’s,”  _ Harry signed, inwardly deflating a bit as the words formed in front of him. He kind of missed not having the subtitles. 

 

“Was it?” Marvolo held a hand out and beckoned him. “Well, come on then. Let’s go. The Forbidden Forest is dangerous.”

 

Harry slumped forward and allowed himself to be guided away from the clearing. His finger felt naked without his ring. 

 

* * *

 

 

Lily looked up from her hands, hasty in trying to wipe her tears away. It should be impossible to cry when dead but a lot of things should be impossible but weren’t. “Lord Death.”

 

“Sorry your visit got cut off abruptly,” Death apologized. Unlike the mortal appearance they wore, their true form was nothing but wisps of shadows and silver clouds clumped together in a vague shape of a person. “I can work something out for Christmas.” 

 

“Thank you,” Lily sincerely spoke. James was gone, lost in the throngs of people bustling about in the stark white surroundings. “Pettigrew. He’s still posing as the Weasley’s pet rat, isn’t he? I fear him being so close to Harry.” 

 

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to My Master,” Death soothed. 

 

“... You say that, but you’re letting that Gaunt man awfully close to Harry.” Her words were slow and careful, worried she’d anger the being. Death’s form made a weird shift, as if nodding. 

 

“Yes, I am. They share a sliver of soul, after all. The more Master grows close to the Broken One, in turn, his soul and magic will grow as well. They have a connection that is concrete. I am hoping it will help Master is ways I cannot.” 

 

“I hope so. I just want my child safe and happy,” Lily sniffed, ducking her head. 

 

“I do too,” Death whispered. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Sorry for the wait. 
> 
> I'm taking artistic liberties with characters, backgrounds, and events. 
> 
> This chapter was kind of slow but next chapter is gonna be a doozy ;)

“Go away.” 

 

Trinkets floated across the room, bobbing in motion with the ticking of the ten or so grandfather clocks lining the walls. Portraits pretended they weren’t eavesdropping, hiding behind their decorated surroundings. 

 

The rug, enchanted to have patterns of fish swimming in the sea-blue colored threads, was new. So was the singing lamp. 

 

She crawled through the wall, her heels clinking against the floorboards as she tugged on her vest. Her dark hair, tied back into a tight braided bun, was strung with star clips and ribbon. Her pale eyes bounced across the living area, pencil-thin eyebrow-raising. 

 

“I said go away.” 

 

Various rocks, encased in glass and gold, were spread out across the bookshelves. Hunched over at the dining table, tinkering with a book and another rock, was an old man. He looked brittle like flesh stretched over a skeleton. Barely any meat on his body. He looked up, brown eyes sparkling. 

 

“Mr. Flamel. I’m here on business,” the woman spoke, tugging at her black leather gloves. “Boss sent me for some information.” 

 

“Crea.” The man frowned at her. “What information do you want?” He turned in his chair, the wood and his bones creaking. Crea stood close to him, leaning over the table to study the books spread out. 

 

“You remember the conditions? For being allowed to create the philosopher's stone?” She leafed through the pages. It looked like another language - Latin, most likely. The man swatted at her hands and snapped the books shut, pushing them away. 

 

“That I keep the stone out of anyone’s hands. It was a mistake, letting it become public knowledge. I know that. I’ve kept my word.” 

 

“Have you?” Crea reached around Flamel, grabbing one of the books. She danced out of his reach, opening the cover. Flipping through the pages quickly, she rocked back on her heels. 

 

“What do you mean?” Flamel didn't bother to chase her. He just watched her moved through his living room. 

 

“Where’s the stone?” Flamel went rigid. “You didn't think we wouldn’t be keeping track of it? It’s a stone that lets you defy death. Why wouldn’t we be constantly on top of where it was at all times?” Crea dropped the book onto the moving rug. The threaded fish swerved out of the way. 

 

“I-I was just asking him to hold it for a little while. Just-just until my vault was being finished warded!” Flamel scrambled up from the chair. “Albus was going to give it back!”

 

“Mortals aren’t supposed to know of its existence.” Crea was in his face in a second, her voice icy. “They found out from your blunders. The stone was not supposed to leave your hand.” She touched his cheeks. Despite the glove, her hand was like stone. “Somehow it is miles and miles away, in a different country, at a school for children.” Her eyes flashed. “Where my Little Master is.”

 

“C-calm down.” Flamel tried to create distance. “I have it charmed and warded so no one can use it without my blood!” 

 

Crea leaned away from him. “Oh? Why didn't you just say that from the beginning? I’ll let Boss know.” She stepped close to the wall and paused. “Ms. Bethany will probably be visiting. She isn’t nearly as polite as I am.” With that she disappeared, leaving Flamel by himself.

 

“Polite my ass,” he grumbled. 

 

* * *

 

“So what will your plans be for Christmas?” Draco asked during lunch, spooning a decent serving of broccoli onto his plate. “I’ll be spending it in France, at our holiday manor.” 

 

“I’m going to Hong Kong,” Pansy gushed, smile wide. “Have you ever had their Peking duck? It’s delicious.”

 

“Why Hong Kong?” Amelia asked as she stole one of Harry’s cucumber slices. “That sounds really...weird.”

 

“Family tradition,” Pansy spoke with a shrug. “Grandmother used to live there and I grew up making frequent visits to her family’s mansion.” 

 

“Huh.” Amelia dished out potato cubes for the first year beside her. Harry pouted at the new addition to his plate. “I’ll go home, see my brother. You know, the usual.”

 

“How nice,” Tracey smiled and took a bite of her chicken breast. “I’m staying here, sadly. Family is traveling and can’t include me.”

 

“Is that normal?” Blaise asked as he sipped at his drink. “I’m just hanging with my mum. Harry?” 

 

Harry looked up from his plate. He tilted his head to the side. “ _ Probably go home. It depends on  my Guardian and their plans.”  _

 

The children continued to talk. Tracey leaned closer to Harry and smiled softly. “Hey, if you stay here, let’s spend Christmas together.” 

 

Harry nodded, finding the idea agreeable, though unlikely. After all, no matter what, Death always made it to where he spent the entire Christmas with the child. No matter what. 

 

Their conversations slipped away into talk of their final classes before the Holidays and Harry turned back to his food. 

 

“So I’ve been meaning to ask,” Tracey began slowly, her tone borderline cautious, “but you always mention your guardian. The media never covered where exactly you went after the defeat of You-Know-Who. Who are you living with?” Her eyes were on Harry’s form, steady and open in her curiosity. Harry looked up at her, frown twitching the corners of his lips down. 

 

_ “I was living with my Aunt from my Mum’s side for a while,”  _ Harry explained, hands almost lethargic with the signing,  _ “but they couldn’t take care of me and my Guardian stepped in to take over my care.”  _

 

“Your Mum’s side… Muggles?” Draco’s face was twisted. “You were raised by  _ Muggles _ ?” 

 

“Hey,” a third-year snapped from a few benches down, overhearing their conversation, “remember the Courses. Muggles aren’t Trolls, Malfoy.” Draco sneered at the student and turned his attention back to Harry. 

 

Harry shrugged. He stabbed at a potato cube and popped it into his mouth, trying to keep his hands busy. 

 

He wasn’t raised by his Aunt or Uncle. Honestly, raised wasn’t even a word he’d think to use when describing the years he spent with them. Muggles did not raise Harry. 

 

Death did and did a damn good job. 

 

Lunch continued, Draco muttering ‘ _ Muggles? _ ’ every few minutes as if he’d never heard the word before. Amelia rolled her eyes. 

 

Tracey’s eyes were almost sharp as she studied their resident mystery-boy. 

 

* * *

 

 

Harry could say without any shame that he didn't particularly care for Tracey. Tracey was, in every sense of the word, just  _ there _ . Her personality was kind of bland, her existence slipping into the background when Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Amelia were together. She was just there, lingering. 

 

Therefore, two weeks into November, Harry was shocked to find himself sitting beside Tracey in the courtyard, the two the only ones in the vicinity. It was a very uncomfortable situation. 

 

Tracey was curled up, head buried in her knees and arms hugging her legs close to her hunched body. Harry sat silently as she breathed heavily, her inhales shaky and her exhales nasally Her shoulders shook and every time she sniffled, it sounded congested. 

 

He’d been running late for lunch when he’d found her curled up by one of the large trees, hiding in the shade as she stifled her sobs. Despite them not being close, he still felt horrible at the thought of leaving her by herself during such a time. 

 

He’d sat down next to her, making her stiffen before she’d relaxed after a wet peek at him. 

 

A few minutes of stifling silence passed before Tracey inhaled a long drag of oxygen, sitting up slightly. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wet, the flesh around her eyes pale and bruised. The dark circles were prominent against the lack of color along her cheeks. 

 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, untangling her legs with a wince. The movements were slow, aborted, the blood rushing through her cramped limbs making the process painful. Harry kept his hands in his lap, feeling like this wasn’t a time to talk- or sign, rather. 

 

The wind blew, the temperature chilled with the upcoming change in the seasons. Tracey stared at the leaves ruffling from above them, her face blank. 

 

“I think my parents hate me,” she finally spoke up, leaning back against the tree. Without looking, she sought out Harry’s hand and gripped it tightly. He jolted from the sudden contact before forcing himself to relax. After a beat, he leaned back against the bark too. 

 

“They were very distant with me during the summer before school,” Tracey continued, gaze glazed, “and now they don’t want to spend Christmas with me? I don’t know what I did. I don’t think I did anything wrong. One day they just - they just stopped looking at me like I was their daughter.” She sucked in a shuddery breath and blew it out weakly. A whine followed and she used her free hand to scrub at her eyes. “I don’t know what I did.” 

 

Harry let her collect herself, his heart heavy. He could sort of understand what she felt - fearing and agonizing over why family hated you. Why they didn't love you. Why they were cruel, were distant, were heartless towards you. For no explainable reason too, it seemed. 

 

_ “Sometimes you don’t have to do anything wrong for people to dislike you.”  _ Harry made sure she was looking at him with he signed.  _ “Sometimes people are just possessed by darkness and it hurts everyone else instead of themselves.”  _

 

“Possessed…” Tracey muttered distantly. Her eyes brightened. “I guess. Thanks, Harry. Sor-sorry for making you deal with me.” 

 

Harry venomously shook his head in denial. 

 

_ “You never ‘deal’ with someone! _ ” He argued with a stern look. He’d heard this phrase enough from himself when talking to Death.  _ “I’m your friend and I-”  _ he paused for a second “ _ -I care for you. I want to make sure you’re alright.” _ He returned their hands together and squeezed comfortingly. Tracey smiled weakly at him and leaned her head against his shoulder. He stiffened at the contact, once more, before his shoulders slowly lowered. 

 

“You’re a good friend, Harry. Thank you.” Her grip on his hand tightened and she closed her eyes, basking in the chilly breeze. Harry stared straight ahead, feeling her breathing begin to settle. 

 

Bethany was across the court-yard, openly laughing at Leo who was wiping at his wet eyes, his blabberings of, “HE’S GOT A GIRLFRIEND!” making her laugh harder. 

 

Harry ignored them. Tracey was his friend, yes, and a girl. He didn't know why Leo was getting so emotional over it. He held hands with Death and his Guards all the time. This should be no different. 

 

The two sat there until the chime for Lunch ending rung. Tracey startled awake and shot up, scrambling to fix her robes. Harry pulled himself up and the two walked to their next class, Tracey’s hand finding Harry’s again. 

 

He decided this was fine. 

 

Tracey Davis was just there, in the background when amongst their other friends. But one-on-one with her, Harry found she wasn’t all that bland after all. 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco squinted at the two as they settled into their seats. 

 

“Are you dating?” 

 

A few of the other first-years whipped around in their seats at the sound of juicy gossip. Harry frowned and shook his head while Tracey rolled her eyes. 

 

“No, Malfoy. Harry’s just sweet and I like to hold hands with people. I’ve got two hands, y’know.” Her voice was flat and dry. Draco flushed and turned his attention to McGonagall when she walked in. 

 

Transfiguration was a blur. Harry could say with positivity that it wasn’t one of his best classes. Shame, too, with how McGonagall kept sending him disappointed looks. He vaguely remembered his father mentioning this was one of his best classes. 

 

Classes came and went and Harry found himself sitting on his bed, curtains drawn. 

 

Death sat at the foot of his bed, mismatched eyes serious. The air between the two was thick, frigid cold tension that made the hairs on the back of the child’s neck stand up. 

 

“I won’t be able to have you come home for Christmas,” Death repeated, tone positively miserable. “There have been natural disaster after natural disaster going on and the backlog of soul-filing is becoming quite ridiculous. I can’t have you home by yourself and I don’t trust Bethany or Crea to watch you. I’m so sorry, love.” 

 

It wasn’t even December yet and his Christmas was  _ ruined _ . 

 

Harry’s shoulders slumped and he hung his head, tears brimming along the corner of his eyes. That wasn’t fair. This sucked. Christmas was  _ their  _ time. They’d cuddle on the couch and watch old Holiday movies and order Chinese in the tradition of the American movie  _ A Christmas Story _ . 

 

And that was all ruined now because he was going to have to stay at the Castle for Christmas. 

 

“Please don’t cry, love.” Death’s cold hands cupped his flushing cheeks and lifted his head. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I truly am.” 

 

Harry jerked his face out of those ice-cold hands and pouted at the bedsheets. Death sighed, muttering something like, “I thought he didn't get moody until he was fourteen.” 

 

The two lapsed into silence. Death just stared at Harry like the child had personally spat in their cake and Harry just continued to fume at the sheets. Finally-

 

Harry launched himself at Death, hugging the entity tightly. 

 

“I know,” Death whispered, running a hand through his hair, “I know.” 

 

It wasn’t even December yet and Harry knew that the following weeks were going to be horrible. 

 

* * *

 

“Duals?” Severus asked, nursing his cup of tea close to his mouth. Marvolo hummed faintly, staring at the fire crackling in front of the two men. 

 

“I think it’d be fun,” Marvolo continued with a faint smirk. “It’s always amusing to see the children throw each other around like rag-dolls. Besides, Defense Against the Dark Arts has to meet a physical participation requirement before the end of the semester.”

 

“Does Albus approve?” Severus’s eyebrows rose at the thought. “Merlin, imagine the Gryffindors with the Slytherins.” 

 

“The old coot agreed it was a  _ glorious idea _ .” Marvolo’s sarcasm was hefty. “I was going to have all four Houses attend. Randomly match up students. I think it’ll be fun.” 

 

“Yes, you’ve said that,” Severus pointed out. He frowned. “I’ll assist if that’s alright.” 

 

The fire glinted off of Marvolo’s dark eyes. 

 

“My old friend, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that! :) 
> 
> I'm sorry if you disagree with me on Harry's House placement. It'll make sense. I swear. 
> 
> Again, everything being vague is on purpose. Hope to see you at the next chapter! Thank you very much for reading! <3


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